School Hard
by messalina77
Summary: Sookie has it bad for a certain hot, blonde teacher! Rated M for Lemons :D
1. Mercy

There was no other way to say it. He looked like a sex god. And unfortunately, he was also my teacher.

The first day of my senior year was supposed to be great. Finally, we were at the top of the social ladder. Although I'm definitely not part of the "popular" crowd like my younger brother Jason, I was still looking forward to being in that unassailable position of high school authority as a senior.

I arrived at the school a little earlier than normal; I tend to be overly punctual when I'm excited or nervous about something. Amelia, my best friend since before I could talk, called over to me to where she was sitting in the courtyard. (It's not like my high school is particularly ritzy, but it is historical and over a hundred years old. The architecture is pretty cool, but it makes heating and, especially cooling, a real bitch.)

"Sookie! Over here!" Amelia waved. I happily joined her, and we indulged in the typical girlie-squeals of best friends who hung out last night but act like they haven't seen each other in months. We fawned over each other's first day outfits, throwing out compliments with practiced speed and sincerity. As we chatted, someone walking past her caught my eye and I adjusted my gaze.

The first thing I noticed was his ass. For me, that's saying a lot- I don't like to judge people on their appearances and I especially try not to objectify someone. It's mostly because Gran is always emphasizing The Golden Rule, and it kind of disturbs me when a guy tries to hold a conversation with my ample bosom. So normally, I wouldn't act the same way and check out someone's physical, ahem, assets- but this stranger's ass was so perfectly tight and round, it seemed to be begging for me to take a bite out of it.

Blushing slightly from the erotic turn that my thoughts had taken, I chanced a look at the stranger's face. And was instantly mortified to see his cool blue eyes staring back at me. I couldn't believe that the one time I tried to check someone out, I got caught! (Well actually, I could. This seems to be the story of my life.)

Amelia noticed my sudden silence and waved her hand in front of my face. "Hello, earth to Sookie!" I broke eye contact with the tall, blonde stranger, who had the gall to smirk arrogantly (but oh-so-handsomely) at me as he continued to walk towards the main office. I quickly tried to distract myself with my bag, but it was too late. Amelia had already followed my gaze to see the Adonis, who, I had briefly registered, was wearing grey slacks and a white collared shirt. Her eyes widened as she took in his broad shoulders and long, lean torso, and she exclaimed, "Thank god, some new meat! I hope he's in some of my classes...Sooks, why are you so red? Do you know that guy?"

"Amelia!" I hissed, "Do you have be so loud? He just caught me accidentally checking him out! God, I am so embarrassed!"

She watched his retreating form, and judging from her hungry expression, I was surprised she didn't lick her lips or let out a wolf-whistle. Turning back to me, she commented blithely, "You should have winked or giggled or something! A hottie like that isn't going to be available for long in this one-Starbucks town."

Shaking my head, I gathered my stuff as just as the warning bell rang. "You're totally incorrigible, Ames," I said, pleased that at least I could use my Word-Of-The-Day. Amelia nudged me as she walked by. "Sooks, you've gotta loosen up a little. It's our last year, you need to let down your hair and relax. So what if he did catch you? At least he knows you're interested, and that's never a bad thing. Anyways, I'm off to Physics but I'll see you at lunch." Without looking back, she strode forward as I headed the opposite way towards my English class.

The rest of the day had proven to be uneventful, and I had forgotten about the Adonis until my last class, history. I took a seat next to my friend Claudine, who looked gorgeous as always. Whereas I was tan, blonde, and voluptuous (at least, I hoped that's how I would be described by others), Claudine was tall, slender and exotic. I couldn't help but compare myself to her, but fortunately Claudine was always so nice and helpful that she was impossible to dislike. Her twin brother Claude, on the other hand, was a card carrying member of the most popular clique in school and had often tried to bully me when we were younger. I subtly surveyed the class while conversing with Claudine, and I was relieved that Claude wasn't there but also slightly disappointed when I realized I didn't have any classes with the new student.

Eventually the bell rang and someone entered the room and closed the door behind them. I looked up, expecting to see the teacher, and was rewarded with the infuriatingly superior gaze of the Adonis. I expected him to walk to a desk and settle his magnificent tush in a seat, but instead he approached the chalkboard and wrote, "Mr. Northman."

Oh crap.


	2. Oxford Comma

A/N: WOW thank you guys so much for your feedback! I was so nervous about this, but I really, really, REALLY appreciate ya'll's responses. I also get a kick out of your anecdotes :) So I know the idea of a teacher/student relationship is unethical and might have an ick-factor for some, but, (taking advice from ) I tried to remove a little of that by making it clear that Sookie is an eighteen-yr-old. However, the forbidden-ness it is associated with is also what makes the situation so yummy! (OK, well obviously the hotness of Eric is another huge factor)....

Anyways, this story is entirely fantasy, and I hope ya'll enjoy this next chapter!

Disclaimer: All of these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris.

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The class quieted almost instantly, and I swear I felt Claudine swoon a little next to me when he turned around. I finally had a chance to stare openly at him, and I felt my classmates doing the same.

This man should not be a teacher, I thought. This man should be modeling Armani underwear on a runway.

He was tall, at least 6'3, with shoulder-length hair that was the same shade of blonde as mine and held back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His face had that indescribable characteristic that makes a man handsome- it wasn't rugged or refined, but falling somewhere in-between. And of course there was his body, which I could tell was toned and muscled under his white, collared shirt.

Moving in front of his desk, he then casually leaned back on it with his long legs stretched in front of him and his arms resting on either side. He scanned the class briefly before speaking, and his blue eyes (which seemed like pools of sapphires, not that I noticed) lingered on me. (WHY did I pick the second row from the front? Darn my grade-conscious behavior!) He smirked almost imperceptibly, but I definitely caught it and felt a tell-tale blush beginning to spread across my cheeks. He looked around again and began to introduce himself in a measured voice that had a tenor-like quality to it, but was a little deeper.

"I am Eric Northman. You may call me Mr. Northman. I am from Sweden, but I attended the University of Texas where I obtained my B.A. in History and my teaching certification. This is my first year of teaching, and so I expect to learn from you as well."

He paused, surveying the room. After hearing his accent and precise pronunciation, which was so distinctly different from our slower Southern drawls, Claudine was clutching her desk exaggeratedly for support. She met my eyes and, raising her eyebrows, silently mouthed out, "HOT!" Fortunately Mr. Northman didn't appear to notice this little exchange and continued his introduction.

"If you do the work and put in the effort I require, you will do well in this class. I do not offer extra credit but I will have tutorials every afternoon." At this, I could practically hear the wheels turning in the minds of every girl in the room- and maybe even in one of the boys. "I look forward to making this a great year. As I call out your name to check attendance, I would like for each of you to introduce yourselves and share an interesting fact with us. Let's begin with..." he picked up the attendance sheet, and I knew exactly which name he would say because, again, this is how my life works (or doesn't), "...Miss Susannah Stackhouse?"

I raised my hand and try not to gulp cartoonishly. "It's Sookie." He annotated the roll call with my nickname and I quickly tried to think of something interesting, something that would impress him. "And...erm..." I love cooking and I watch Food Network religiously? I have two dogs named Rhett and Scarlett? I want to marry you and have your babies? ...think, Sookie, think....

"I like cinnamon rolls."

The class tittered at my statement, while I colored and slumped down in my seat a little. Mr. Northman, instead of staring at me like I was a manifestation of Rainman, which is what I honestly expected, did the most unusual thing.

He laughed.

Not **at** me, but it was like he was surprised at something. In doing so, he smiled broadly, showing perfectly sharp, white teeth. "I also have a sweet tooth, Susannah. I am sorry, _Sookie_," he corrected himself. God help me, because when he called me Susannah I felt the most glorious tingle in my stomach...and lower. His electric blue eyes held mine for only a moment too long, and then he looked down at the list and called on the next person.

After that, every girl in the class said they liked something sugary. Hershey bars, chocolate chip cookies, heck, even Claudine batted her eyelashes and said she loved lollipops. But if they were looking for Mr. Northman to react in the same way as he did to my comment, they were sorely disappointed. He became more amused and incredulous with each comment, but also a little more guarded.

Lafayette's response of, "I like sex jelly," finally caused Mr. Northman to ask us to keep our "interesting facts" PG rated. The class was still snickering about Lafayette's obvious advances when he called on the last person, Debbie Pelt, who was sitting in the back corner of the room.

Debbie Pelt was not just an ordinary skank. If there was an Olympic event for skankiness, she would at least medal in silver, and then probably try to take out whoever won gold. She raised an eyebrow and said, (skankily, of course), "My birthday was last week and I just turned eighteen."

Wow. _What a ho-bag_, I thought, amazed that her sluttiness knew no bounds. I mean, I had turned eighteen in July but there was no way that I would ever...insinuate something like that in front of the entire class.

Claudine rolled her eyes at me, but I was focused on Mr. Northman's reaction. He simply marked off her name and said, "Happy belated birthday. Well, I believe that is everyone. I will pass out the syllabus, we will go over it, and then you may begin reading Chapter One until the end of class."

As he reviewed the syllabus, I was astounded by the amount of work he expected us to do, (like read at least one supplementary historical novel every two weeks). He seemed to receive a similar vibe from the rest of the class because he added, "It may seem like a lot right now, but you can prevent stress by pacing yourselves." Eventually he wrapped it up and offered to answer questions before allowing us time to study. Although I think he meant for us to ask questions about the syllabus and the class, the first few questions were about him. We found out that he played soccer, he had three older sisters, and he had moved to Louisiana for "personal reasons." As someone tried to get him to elaborate on this last answer, the bell rang.

Naturally, most of the girls tried to linger until they saw Mr. Northman gather up a few things and walk out the door. Then there was a mad exodus. But Gran had raised me to be polite and, even though I was dying for another peek at his sweet backside, I waited for the other girls to file out.

Finally, when there were only one or two others behind me, I stood up and moved around my desk. Suddenly, I felt someone bump my shoulder and I dropped my bag on the ground. Since it was a tote bag, half of my stuff fell out. Debbie Pelt looked back and sneered at me before marching out of the room. I sighed and knelt down to pick up my things. I was busy collecting everything when someone bent down beside me. I saw a large hand offer a few papers to me and as I turned to say, "Thank you," I realized it was Mr. Northman. He was still studying the top page, on which I had drawn little hearts and flowers...and the initials EN + SS.

And just as I thought that the situation couldn't get more awkward, I noticed for the first time that he was wearing a wedding ring.

My only thought was, oh, God, please open a hole in the ground for me. After what seemed like an eternity (a really, really bad one on par with, say, hell), I stood up and quickly stuffed everything in my big, dumb, stupid bag. He straightened and regarded me in a serious, professional manner. "Sorry," I mumbled, looking at the ground as I passed him. He moved to the side, but not soon enough because I accidentally brushed against his arm. I felt him stiffen and I cringed as I bolted through the door.

**********************

Laying in bed that night, thinking over the day and especially about Mr. Northman, I couldn't help but reminisce about my one and only previous relationship.

I met Bill Compton when I was seventeen. He had just transferred as a senior to Bon Temps High School after a brief stint in juvie. (I know, this doesn't exactly scream "WINNER!" but isn't part of being a Christian about forgiving others?) Fate had conspired with me (or rather, against me, I would later discover) and placed us next to each other in English Lit. He had turned around in his seat, giving me a moment to admire his dark hair and eyes before asking me with a cool, soft voice if he could borrow a pen. The rest was infamous history. We dated last fall, although in this case "dating" meant that he would call me when he was bored and I would come running. I knew it was lame to make excuses, but it's just that when we were together, he made me feel like I was the only person who mattered. It made it easier to ignore all of the times that I needed him and he was nowhere to be found.

Amelia liked to call him "Vampire Bill" because she thought he was sucking the life out of me. Everything I did, said, thought, and wore revolved around him. I couldn't help it though- he was my first love, the first guy who I was attracted to that had ever shown any interest in me. His lack of availability was just part of his charm, I told myself, but I knew he cared. I was sure of it.

We made love for the first time on Christmas Eve. Gran had dragged Jason to Maxine Fortenberry's annual Christmas soiree, but I had begged off with a fake cold so that I could see Bill. The event itself was pretty forgettable- almost immediately after he had entered me, (and I had to forcibly keep him from moving at first because of the slight pain), he thrust in twice and came. As he rolled off of me, I stared up at the ceiling, wondering if that was all there was, and what exactly the big deal was about something so...small. (And I say this now not as a scorned woman, but as an objective observer. Bill was tiny enough to make me wonder if I was still technically a virgin.) But as usual, I forgave his selfish ways and just considered myself lucky that someone would care about me.

I went to sleep with his arms around me and woke up alone. There was a note on the pillow. I prayed it would say, "Love you. See you soon." or even, "Went to grab food. Will be back." But the four words it did contain destroyed me: "I can't do this."

Amelia came over on Christmas Day and after crying with me for what seemed like hours, she started to rail against Bill, even making fun of the girlie-handwriting in his note. She summoned an anger and a sense of dignity that helped me, at least temporarily, conquer my deep, aching sadness. My brain knew that Bill wasn't good, it told me repeatedly that he didn't care, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And at the time, my heart just wanted him.

Now, with some distance and time between me and my disappointment, it was tempting to place all of the blame on Bill, but I still couldn't. I realized that I had let him take advantage of me. There was absolutely no excuse for his disgusting behavior, but I never should have let it go so far. I should've had the confidence and been secure enough to tell him to fuck off the moment he started expecting things without demonstrating that he actually did care about me. Instead of being grateful for his attention, I should have demanded his respect. But of course, hindsight's always 20/20.

So after the break-up, I was miserable for the next few weeks, slogging through school, avoiding Bill whenever possible, and rarely leaving the house. Amelia stuck by me, and Gran was supportive even though I felt too ashamed to tell her exactly what had happened. Eventually, when the weather began to warm up, the birds came out and started to sing, and all the other springtime clichés occurred, I finally got a move-on. Bill was expelled before he could graduate (for smoking pot on school grounds) and then left town. I spent the summer forgetting him, but not what I had learned from the experience. And in fact, I had avoided anything even remotely resembling a guy or an attraction until today.

I could try to deny it but I wanted Mr. Northman. I wanted **Eric** Northman. I wanted those deep blue eyes to smolder at me, I wanted to hear him groan my name with those delicious lips and that sensationally seductive voice. I imagined him kissing me, sliding his large hands around my waist and pulling me against his rock-hard frame and....okay, this was buying me a one-way ticket to Crazytown. He was my teacher, for cripes' sakes, I shouldn't be fantasizing about this. Especially now that he'd had a pretty obvious glimpse into what I was thinking. And, oh my gosh, **DUH**, because he was married!!!!! (I subconsciously kept wanting to forget this.) How was I going to face him in class every day for the rest of the school year?

Tossing and turning, I thought intermittently about him and Bill before finally drifting off into a restless sleep.

__________________

Coming up: an Eric POV....and is he really married????

SPOILER: No, of course not :D


	3. Charmer

A/N: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews!!! You guys are fantastic, and I'm really trying to take into account what ya'll want to see happen next. I had a hard time moving along the plot with this chapter, so I'm not sure how often I'll being doing E POVs from here on out. And yes, you are noticing correctly, there is another new chapter after this one :D Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: All of these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris.

__________________

_Eric POV_

As I prepared for my final class of the day, I reflected on how everything had gone so far. Most of the students seemed prepared to work once I made my expectations clear. Unfortunately, the girls' reactions to my appearance were obvious and predictable. I may come across as cocky or arrogant, but I've never felt the need to apologize for my good looks or act like they don't exist. As a result of my upbringing, I've always had a strong work ethic and I don't rely on my appearance to succeed in life, or even allow it to determine the direction of my life. I had chosen teaching as a career because I genuinely believed that education was invaluable, something no person could take from another. For me, it was the most fundamental means by which an individual could vastly improve the quality of their life.

And more importantly, the empty flattery and shallow opinions of these girls didn't really matter- they were based on something so completely and utterly superficial.

However, I did have an interesting encounter after I'd first entered the school. I'd sensed several pairs of eyes following me- nothing unusual there- but for some reason I'd felt compelled to look to my left. I caught a vivacious blonde girl staring at my ass. She was tan and gorgeous, and despite my disdain for judging someone based on appearances, I instinctively wanted her to see that I had noticed her blatant eye-fuck. As if she had read my mind, her blue-green eyes met mine. I couldn't help but smirk at her (okay, so maybe calling me arrogant isn't that far from the truth).

It came as a surprise, though, when she responded by blushing and averting her gaze.

_Huh_, I thought. In my experience, most women would attempt a sexy wink (they thought it was sexy, I always thought it looked cheesy as hell) or at least a smile- but not this girl. She studied the seat next to her as if it held the answer to the meaning of life, and was careful not to look up again. For some reason or another, she reminded me of that song, "Suzie Q." She just looked so...all-American and wholesome. She also seemed to have a sense of modesty, or at least the decency to feel embarrassed after I had caught her, which, after the last few months and everything that happened with Vivienne, was a refreshing change.

My conscience annoyingly made its presence known, reminding me that she was a student, that it was entirely unethical and wrong to feel even remotely attracted to her. I knew that even the smallest hint of impropriety could disrupt my entire career and future, and I resolved to forget about her.

Fortunately, Miss Suzie Q hadn't shown up in any of my classes and, since the school was so large, I assumed it was highly unlikely that she would be in my last class.

The bell rang and shook me out of my reverie. I headed to the faculty lounge to grab some papers from the copy machine and made it back just as the late bell sounded.

Almost immediately I spotted Suzie Q sitting practically in the front row. With her high blonde ponytail, pale yellow cardigan, and voluminous yellow and white floral-print skirt, she looked out of place without a string of pearls or maybe an apple pie. I saw her eyes widen once she noticed me, and I realized uncomfortably that I was becoming increasingly attracted to this gorgeous young woman. I distracted myself by writing my name on the chalkboard.

As I made my introduction to the class, I couldn't resist another tiny smirk at her. It made more sense to keep her at a disadvantage, I told myself, so she wouldn't realize that I was entertaining some very illicit thoughts about her. After grabbing the attendance sheet, I briefly scrolled through it when one name in particular popped out: Susannah Stackhouse. _No way_, I thought incredulously,_ there is no way that Suzie Q might actually have that name_.

But of course there was. My surprise at her unusual nickname quickly turned to amusement at her cinnamon-roll revelation. My half-hearted plan to disarm her fell to the wayside. I was struck by a desire, a _need_ to know more about this unconventional girl who looked like she had just walked out of an episode of _Mad Men_, who blushed at the slightest provocation and who, God forbid, actually enjoyed carbs and sweets. I didn't mean to startle her with my response, or to stare at her for so long, but by the time I called on the next person, she was blushing furiously and biting her lower lip.

I was so tempted to offer to do that for her, but instead I gave myself a mini-pep talk that went something like: **for chrissake, Northman, get your shit together**.

Eventually, the period ended and I was saved from having to explain exactly why I was in Bon Temps, Louisiana. Thank God, because there really wasn't any appropriate way to say, "Well, after I walked in on my wife fucking our mailman, I divorced her and left town. With only two weeks of summer left, Bon Temps was the only school district hiring, so here I am. Okay, and don't forget to go over that Chapter One vocabulary!"

Not only would it fan the flames of gossip in a town where I wanted to start fresh, but it was all so very clichéd. (Much like a high school teacher finding one of his students attractive, and considering risking everything for one chance to bend her over his desk and take her from behind...Jesus, I **had** to stop thinking about her like that.)

I noticed quite a few of the girls hanging around and I thought that I might help them move along if I left the room and visited with the teacher next door for a moment. I chuckled to myself as a veritable stampede followed me out. After speaking briefly with Ms. Pam Ravenscroft, who I was quickly discovering to be quite the character, I went back to my room.

Shit.

Sookie was still there, squatting down with her knees bent to the side in a surprisingly ladylike pose. She seemed to be picking up some papers on the floor. I instinctively moved to help her but froze once I saw that she had drawn our initials together in a heart on a scrap of paper.

To add in salt to the injury (or whatever they say), after she grabbed it from me, she appeared to be staring at something on my hand. Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. My wedding ring. Why I was still wearing the damn thing was beyond me. Damn Vivienne for fucking everything up even when she wasn't here. I was certain that Sookie thought I should be up for the Asshole of the Year Award- not only did I flirt with her as a teacher, but (in her mind) as a married man.

She rose and moved so quickly that I barely had time to stand and no time at all to get out of her way. As her hip brushed against me on her way out, I felt my dick harden instantly and I stiffened the rest of my body, praying to every deity I knew that she hadn't felt my body's response to her proximity. She mumbled something as she passed, but I couldn't concentrate on anything except for the delicious scent of her soft hair (was that vanilla? lavender?). God, I was so close to reaching out for her. Instead, I let her leave and watched for a moment as she subtly and unconsciously sashayed her hips down the hallway.

This was going to be a long year.

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So what do you think? Does it sound like Eric- or rather, "Mr. Northman?"

Coming up: Deliciously tart citrus- in the school!! Zoinkees :D


	4. She's Only 18

A/N: This one pretty much speaks for itself.

Disclaimer: All of these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris.

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_Sookie POV_

Two weeks had passed without any significant interaction occurring between us. I came to class, participated, and left. He didn't smile or look at me like he had on that first day; in fact, he barely seemed to notice me. Even when I went above and beyond in the discussions, demonstrating that I had not only done all of the reading but also searched for related outside sources, he barely acknowledged my effort.

By the end of the third week, I couldn't deal with his silent treatment any longer. I was a darn good student and I hated for a teacher to think that just because I considered him sexy, I wasn't intelligent. Although a certain group of girls (not including me, of course) had stayed after school the first week, eventually they began to realize that Mr. Northman wasn't going to do anything other than give them extra assignments, and they stopped coming to the tutorials. (Even Debbie Pelt gave up after three sessions.) Finally, only a few students would stay after class, and they were the ones who genuinely struggled with the readings. So on that third Friday everyone was ready for the weekend, and as soon as the bell rang, all of my classmates practically ran out the door.

Only Mr. Northman and I were left, but at first he didn't seem to notice. For a few awkward moments, he continued to erase the board. I walked up to the side of his desk, summoned my courage, and coughed loudly. He turned around so fast that I thought he might have whiplash, and I would have laughed if I hadn't been so dang nervous.

"Um, Mr. Northman, I need to talk to you about something."

His expression changed from startled to cool as a cucumber in about two seconds flat, which made my heart pound in my chest. Still, I knew I had to get through this. The longer I spent in his class, the more my respect for him grew. He was a great teacher, enthusiastic and knowledgeable, and as his student, I wanted to receive the benefits of that. I had to change his opinion of me. I just had to.

"I wanted to apologize for the first day of class. I know how inappropriate my behavior was and I'm sorry if I placed you in an uncomfortable position. I just want you to know that that's not really who I am, I'm not some floozy who throws herself at strangers, especially not when they're teachers, even if they look like students, which is what I thought you were at first, not that that's any excuse..."

I rambled on and on, unable to stop myself even as I felt my cheeks burning and my nervous smile stretching out further and further. This wasn't the speech I had practiced last night in front of my vanity mirror. Heck, this wasn't even the speech I gave in my nightmares!

But the absolute worst part was that he wasn't saying anything. While I babbled incessantly, he simply studied me with those enigmatic eyes. At some point, I stopped for a breath and thought seriously about just turning and running. I could probably change my schedule, maybe Ms. Ravenscroft still had some empty seats...

My train of thought ended when Mr. Northman gently placed his hand on my shoulder. I felt a tingle run through my body and I had to stop myself from subconsciously leaning into him.

"Sookie..." he began tentatively, searching my eyes, "I know you are a good student. You might even be the best student I have this year. I should be the one to apologize. I also acted inappropriately on the first day by perhaps encouraging you when I should not have. I am sorry if you feel that I have been ignoring you."

I felt disappointment growing in the pit of my stomach, but I tried to focus on what he was about to say.

He hesitated before continuing. "I am finding it difficult to balance my attention between the students who need my help and the students, like you, who thrive extraordinarily well even without it."

Well.

That was bullshit if I'd ever smelled it.

He'd always responded enthusiastically to Cara, Annie, Brett, and all the other students who were "thriving" without his help.

Summoning up my courage yet again, I stared at him defiantly until my emotions overcame me and I accidentally blurted out, "That's a lie."

His eyes widened and his hand dropped from my shoulder.

"You won't look at me in class. I study so hard, I try so hard, and you won't even look at me." My voice broke slightly as I tried to hold back a sob.

Embarrassed and convinced that I'd totally destroyed any chance of getting him to respect me, I fled the room.

Luckily, the school was mostly empty. Students and faculty alike had been ready for the weekend and so the halls were silent. I hurried towards the closest restroom to clean myself up before I drove home; I didn't want Gran to see that I was upset. Unshed tears burned in my eyes, but I impatiently and angrily brushed them away.

Because the school was so old, the girls' restroom had a unique layout. The front was a "Powder Room" and the actual stalls were accessed through a door on the side. I stayed in the Powder Room, trying to calm myself down before I left.

Suddenly, the door flew open. In the mirror, I saw Mr. Northman slam it shut behind him and lock it with a resounding click. I swallowed hard as he advanced towards me with a primal gleam in his eyes, which had darkened from electric blue into deep, rich sapphires. I was so shocked that I couldn't do move or do anything besides watch his reflection. Stepping behind me and maintaining eye contact in the mirror, he placed his large hands on my hips. I was literally caught between a rock (the bathroom counter) and a hard place as he pressed his erection against my ass.

A sound that was a cross between a gasp and a moan fell from my lips, but I continued to stare at his reflection, fascinated by the predatory look he was giving me.

"**This** is why I don't look at you in class, Sookie. Because every time I do, it becomes more and more impossible to keep myself from throwing you on my desk and fucking you into oblivion."

I shuddered with desire at the thought of it and instinctively rubbed my ass against his hardness, wanting more of his words, more of his body, God, just more of _him_. He gauged my lustful expression for a moment, and while still looking at me in the mirror, he caressed my chin before tilting my head slightly to the side. Bending his neck so that his lips were close to my ear, he whispered, "Do not start something you may not be able to finish."

In response, I began grinding my hips more deeply against him. I may not have been confident about a lot of things in life, but I knew two things for certain. I wanted this man. And I was going to have him.

He growled(!) and his right hand moved from my waist to my left breast. When his talented fingers began to tease my nipple into a hardened nub, I leaned back against his firm chest, closed my eyes and moaned loudly.

He stopped and I felt his chest rumble as he said authoritatively, "Look at me, Sookie."

My eyes flew open and met his in the mirror as he bent to suck on a tender spot at the nape of my neck. My gaze drifted lower when his other hand began to slide up the inside of my thigh, under my skirt.

Watching us together, watching him touching me like this, was so unbelievably erotic that I thought I might spontaneously combust from lust right then and there.

I felt something unexpectedly cold on my leg and my hand grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement. "What..." my voice trailed off as I realized that the "something" was his metallic wedding band. He stiffened as my fingers grazed the ring and I asked him quietly, without really wanting to know the answer, "Mr. Northman, what about your wife?"

He withdrew instantly but set his hands on either side of me on the counter, effectively trapping me. Although my thoughts were still overwhelmed with desire, they were also marred by shame. I couldn't continue now that I had remembered _her_.

Thankfully, his next words were the equivalent of a green light.

"She cheated on me. I'm divorced. I know I should stop wearing my ring, but—" I cut him off by turning around and hungrily pressing my lips against his.

Her loss. How anyone could have cheated on this amazing man was beyond me.

As enthralling as it had been to watch our reflections, it had also been slightly surreal. Now that we were facing each other, it finally began to sink in that this was actually happening.

And God, he was such an incredible kisser- my entire body felt like it was on fire. I only wanted more of this forever- his muscled arms holding me crushed against his hard torso, my hands desperately clutching his shoulders and fisted in his soft hair, and his uniquely masculine scent surrounding me.

Although I needed air, my body still screamed, "traitor!" as I pulled away. Panting heavily, I gazed up at him and realized how much he had changed in only these last few minutes since I'd left his classroom. Instead of being indifferent or guarded, he was looking at me with obvious admiration and lust. He leaned his forehead against mine in a gesture that was simple but extremely intimate. While looking deep into my eyes and gently stroking the nape of my neck, he spoke to me in a low, hoarse voice that belied his current emotional state.

"Sookie, I know what you thought, but I **did** notice your efforts. That was the problem; you were all I could think about, even when you weren't in my classroom- hell, even when I wasn't at the school. I'm sorry, more sorry than you can imagine, for how I've treated you these last few weeks."

I glowed with happiness at these words before kissing him again. His hand continued to stroke my neck; the other had slid around my waist and was pressing me into him. I returned to grinding against him wantonly, moved by a passion and an intensity I had never experienced before. He growled(!) against my mouth and without warning, lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist. Somehow in the next instant he had pressed me up against the nearest wall, and I moaned as he pushed my skirt up far enough to rub himself against my center.

One of his large hands supported me underneath while the other blazed a trail up my thigh. He grabbed my soaking wet underwear, tore it across my hips, and stuffed it in his pocket. I almost protested at the destruction of one of my favorite pairs of Victoria's Secret panties, but I forgot everything including my own name when he deftly skimmed the outside of my slit with his fingers. My hips rocked forward trying to get him to penetrate me, but his hand stopped moving and his lips broke away from mine.

"So impatient, Sookie, tsk tsk. Perhaps it is an American thing?" he teased, smirking down at me.

Later, I was going to make him pay. But right now, I just needed those long fingers inside of me, bringing me to orgasm.

"Tell me what you want," he said challengingly, with his accent becoming more pronounced.

"Mr. Northman, please...I need you to...I want..." But even after everything, I was still embarrassed to be verbal about what I wanted. I whined a little in frustration; surely he wouldn't stop now...

One torturously long finger slid in and began thrusting slowly. I almost sobbed with relief.

"First, my name is Eric."

I nodded frantically as he added another finger.

"Y-y-yesss, Eric," I breathed.

There was a slight hitch in his rhythm as he heard me say his name for the first time. He picked up his pace though and continued in an even, composed voice.

"Secondly, you have to tell me what you want. Since this seems to be new for you, and I am, after all, your teacher-" here I made a guttural sound as I vaguely recalled the delicious forbiden-ness of it all- "I will give you an example."

I nodded again, not speaking, content to ride his fingers and feel the pressure build as his thumb began to circle lightly around my swollen clit, so close but not touching.

"Eric," he began in a slightly higher-pitched, melodramatic Southern drawl that would have made me laugh under less duress, "I want you to fuck my sweet, tight, hot, _drippin'_ wet cunt with your looong, agile, masculine fingers. And don't you dare stop until you make me cum at _least_ twice." He ended his little "example" with an imitation of my whine from only a minute ago.

"Is that supposed to be me?" I asked, momentarily distracted and outraged. "Because I do _not_ sound like thaaAAAAAA-" I wailed as his thumb finally made direct contact with and massaged my clit.

He stopped again, waiting to hear a more "detailed" request from me. Instead, I could only cry out in sheer desperation, "ERIC, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLEASE DON'T STOP!!!!"

He shrugged slightly and said, "Good enough," before repeatedly pumping three fingers into me. I made noises I didn't even think a human being was capable of making when his thumb deftly rubbed my clit in quick, continuous circles.

And as quickly as he had begun to tease me, his expression had become serious again.

"Come for me, Susannah," he commanded. I gazed helplessly into his dark blue eyes when the pressure inside of me finally exploded and I shook violently, unable to scream his name more than once as I came on his hand. My head flopped onto his shoulder like a rag doll's and I sagged against him, panting heavily.

He softly encouraged me, murmuring things like, "Shh, Sookie, you're alright. You're okay, I've got you."

After a few minutes had passed, he grabbed some clean paper towels (from the holder that was conveniently a few feet away from us), and then cleaned both of us up. I continued to rest in his arms, sandwiched between him and the wall, and totally sated for the first time in my young life.

I finally ended the silence with an eloquent summary of my feelings.

"Wow."

He laughed and finally pulled back to set me on the ground. It was about that time when I realized that I had just let my history teacher finger me in the girls' bathroom, and what if someone had heard, or what if he was regretting it already or expecting me to immediately, you know, "return the favor," and I wasn't any good?

However, my insecurities completely disappeared when I looked into Eric's eyes. Once unfathomable, they were now warm and caring. I felt something else, something deeper than lust pulling at me, but for right now I didn't want to explore those feelings.

He kissed me lightly and said, "Sookie, I don't want to pressure you into anything, but if I am being entirely honest, I would like to get to know you better. If you feel it is inappropriate, I understand. I can only assure you that whatever happens or doesn't happen between us outside of class will not affect the way that I treat you in the classroom. And if you are concerned that it might, I would be happy to help you change your schedule—"

I quickly interrupted, "No! I mean, I love your class, Eric, I don't want to change. I...I trust you."

He smiled. "In that case, how would you like to be my guest for dinner this evening?"

Unbidden images of Eric and I naked on his bed flew threw my mind at a rapid rate. Even as I shyly accepted his offer, I wondered if there was any way that I could possibly keep myself from having my wicked way with him as soon as I entered his home.

Probably not, I thought, with a little anxiety and a lot of anticipation.

_____________

Coming up: dinner at Chez Eric! Will he cook or order in?

And the introduction of a villain! Come on now, it's no fun if there isn't someone to throw a few wrenches in the works. Will it be Pam? Debbie Pelt? Or another, as-of-yet-unintroduced character? No spoilers this time, folks; I can't tell you who. But I can say that it will probably be John Quinn, the boorish football coach who is oddly fond of calling his players, and the other teachers, and the lunch ladies, "Babe." HA!


	5. Time of the Season

A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews!!! I am amazed at how many of ya'll have wished for (or actually had) hot teachers to ogle- I thought I was the only one ;) So, more bom-chicka-wa-wow in this chapter, but the next few will probably have lemons of the less pulpy, descriptive variety. I mean, there has to be _some_ plot, right? :D Bon appetit!

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris...and maybe also the phrase, "pleased as punch."

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I drove for about half an hour through the country to reach Eric's house, not including the time it took me to get from Gran's to the "center" of Bon Temps. The house itself was a decent size and looked like it had only recently been built. There was a lot of cleared land and some forest area around it, and I took in the peaceful, lushly green surroundings as I drove up the graveled driveway.

His black Chevy pick-up sat in front of the house, but I caught a glimpse of something red inside of the one-car garage. I parked behind his truck and gave myself a final once-over in my rearview mirror. Hair not flat or frizzy? Check. Lips glistening with cotton candy-flavored lip gloss? Check. Self-restraint? Er, that one might need some work. It was too late to try, though, because the front door opened just as I slid out of my car and smoothed down my crimson sheath dress. Slamming my car door shut, I took a deep breath and determinedly strode up to meet him.

He was wearing a light blue, collared shirt that perfectly complimented his eyes, which were smiling amusedly at me, and casual khaki pants. I grimly returned the smile, trying to hide the fact that I really just wanted to rip that shirt off of him and maybe reenact that earlier scene from the bathroom. In order to avoid any contact that might make me waver in my resolve to act rationally, I moved automatically with a businesslike manner and stuck out my hand to shake his.

"Eric, thanks for inviting me over for dinner," I said, hoping that this was how mature adults acted in these kinds of situations. _Must control self, an ADULT would not lunge at their host and knock him to the ground in a desperate attempt to make out and is that Armani cologne? Oh, he is so not playing fair!_

"Sookie, you are a vision," he spoke warmly, and casually brushed my hand aside with his forearm as he reached for my cheek and lightly kissed it.

"Thanks. You look...nice, too." _Nice? NICE? He looks like a hot hunk 'o man meat! _my mind screamed at me.

"Is everything okay? You looked like you were preparing to invade Normandy as you were walking up here," he teased lightly.

"What? No, no, I wasn't thinking about anything that serious. Um, just your last lesson. Ya' know, those crazy Greeks were just so, um, crazy?" I finished lamely.

He gave me an incredulous look before asking, "Are you nervous about something, Sookie?"

I gulped a little as I looked into those sky blue eyes.

After a moment, he smirked at me knowingly. "Ah, I see. Well, let's get that out of the way, shall we?" And in one smooth movement, he dipped me to the side and planted on my lips the smooch to end all smooches. Surprised, I just held onto his shoulders and decided that to heck with it, I was going to enjoy myself tonight and not worry about what he or anyone else would think about my behavior.

Eventually, he pulled us both upright and his lips broke away from mine.

"Better?"

I laughed, feeling my anxieties entirely dissipate. "Yes, much."

Suddenly, I sniffed the air.

"Eric, is something burning?"

His eyes widened comically and he swore under his breath as he rushed to the kitchen.

I shut the front door gently and followed him, taking in the simplicity of the house as I walked through it. The colors were all earth tones, forest greens and light browns and creams and grays, with a few Italian themed images and structures strewn about. It seemed as though he had mostly unpacked, but there were still a few boxes still lying about. The living room was on my left, the dining room just past it, and finally I reached the kitchen, where thin smoke was curling out of the oven.

Eric quickly turned off the stove and opened it. Smoke poured out and, while trying to wave it away with a kitchen towel, he covered his mouth with his arm and turned on the vents. From the doorway, I could see a half-charred, gooey mess sitting in a pan in the oven. Finally, when most of the smoke had cleared, he turned around to me with a sheepish expression. I raised an eyebrow and did the only thing I could do under the circumstances: I started laughing.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and admitted, "It has been a while since I have made anything more complicated than a sandwich." As he ran a hand exasperatedly through his loose hair, I noticed that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. _He wasn't wearing his ring. _Suddenly, I didn't care if he had burned ten dinners. The whole point of the evening was for us to get to know each other, so I was happy to discover something new about him, (even if it was that he couldn't cook).

But I did find it kind of adorable that he had tried and failed so spectacularly.

I walked over to his fridge, opened it, and rummaged around a little. Pulling out a few items, I set them by the stove and confidently turned to meet his gaze.

"I'm going to cook for you. How does rosemary and lemon chicken with potatoes au gratin and steamed broccoli sound?"

He stared at me for a second. "I have all of that in my fridge?"

I giggled a little, shaking my head. "In parts, yes. I might have to improvise a little here, but I think it'll turn out okay. And don't think you're getting off the hook, buddy." I found the utensils' drawer and, luckily, a potato peeler. Handing it to him and pushing the potatoes in his direction, I said authoritatively, "Wash these and peel them."

I noticed something was missing and returned to the fridge. As I stepped back and turned around, he was right there behind me and I met the hard wall that was his chest. Gazing up, I saw that he was considering me with what was becoming a familiar combination of lust and admiration.

"I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me. And especially someone wearing something so...alluring," he purred sensually, placing his hands on my hips and lightly stroking them with his thumbs.

I asked, in what I hoped was a casual tone, "Your ex-wife didn't cook?"

His hands stilled, his eyes iced over, and he was stone-faced and silent.

Blushing at my faux pas, I stepped around him and tried to busy myself with the ingredients.

_Nice going, dummy, to bring up the wife that cheated on him. Maybe next you should bring up religion or politics. Or ask him what he thinks might happen if we get caught dating...or whatever it is that we're doing. _

"I apologize for my rudeness, Sookie, but I would prefer not to discuss her." He approached me and, brushing my hair aside, placed a tender kiss on my neck. "I would much rather hear about you and how you became such a knowledgeable cook."

As I told him about Jason and I going to live with Gran after my parents had died, and about how she had been the one who always encouraged me to be self sufficient, he worked on the potatoes next to me, listening intently but respecting the narrative flow. It was a comfortably domestic scene; I felt like I might be happy to do this every night for the rest of my life. And considering that I had only just turned eighteen, with the "whole world in front of me," it scared me little.

It was also pretty darn sexy. Every once in a while, I would furtively glance over at him and melt a little at the sight that greeted me. With his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his strong, lightly tanned arms, and his large hands gripping the vegetable, and those long agile fingers wrapped around it...I tried not to be jealous of the potatoes, but it was difficult, and I found myself semi-relieved after he had finished.

Eventually, all of the other prep work was finished, too. The two dishes were baking in the oven, and the broccoli was ready to be steamed. We went into the living room to relax, and Eric poured two glasses of white wine as we settled on the couch.

I discovered more about his family, (he spoke fondly of them: his father owned a small business in Stockholm, his mother was a homemaker, and all three of his sisters were older than him and acted like mini-mothers; this was part of the reason why he wanted to study abroad, and why he couldn't cook).

He was also enthusiastic about his experiences in Austin, saying that it was a "weird" but vibrant city, and there was constantly something new to do (live music festivals, parks and swimming spots, historical sites, uniquely funky restaurants, etc). The best part of his description, though, was when he told me unthinkingly that I would love it and that we would have to go sometime.

Our meal was finally ready, and as we sat down to eat, he first pulled out my chair for me before seating himself. I tried not to swoon but couldn't help a miniature one- Southern men are supposed to be known for their manners, but I'd still only ever seen that happen in movies.

I waited, slightly anxious, as he took his first bite. He chewed and swallowed completely before looking at me.

"Sookie, this might be the best thing I've ever had in my mouth," he said honestly.

I grinned, pleased as punch, and then dug in.

As we ate, we continued our conversation, moving from our backgrounds to other broader topics. He couldn't believe that I had never seen _Goodfellas_ or _The Godfather_ or anything by someone named Clinton Tarantina; I couldn't believe that he had never been to a honky tonk, or two-stepping, or celebrated Mardi Gras.

"You lived in Texas for four years! There's no excuse- we have to go to Outlaws sometime soon, or else," I said, making a reference to the famous country bar in Shreveport, which wasn't far from here.

"That sounds like an offer I can't refuse," he joked. I stared at him blankly and he shook his head in mock pity. "You have been an American for eighteen years but apparently, I am going to have to educate you on classic American cinema."

His words, (eighteen, educate) brought me back to the current predicament in which we found ourselves. So far, we had spoken candidly about everything except for school, and _her_. But I decided that I didn't want to ruin what was otherwise turning out to be a fantastic first date, so I mentally let it slide.

After Eric had cleaned up (I tried to help, but he looked offended and said that it was the _least_ he could do), we had coffee and dessert (pecan pie, from a local bakery, and vanilla ice-cream). At some point I had slipped out of my shoes and Eric, who had finished his piece of pie, had pulled my feet into his lap, massaging them as we spoke.

As he worked out one kink in particular, I leaned my head back and moaned, "Mmm, God, that feels so good." His eyes shot to mine and I realized how overtly sexual I sounded. He smiled wickedly, like the giant blonde Viking who ate the canary. Or who was about to.

Well, I don't know if it was the wine or the coffee or Eric's ability to make _peeling_ _potatoes_ look sexy, but I felt brazen enough to move my other foot from his chair to his thigh. Quicker than a flash, he stood, letting my feet drop to the floor. Not to be outdone, I jumped up just as he had started to lean over me. I placed my palm on his chest and, hooking my index finger on the button of his slightly opened shirt, I pulled him to me.

Smiling coyly even as my heart threatened to burst out of my chest, I said, "_Mister_ Northman, I think we have a score to settle." I made sure that his eyes, which were turning a tumultuous blue even as I spoke, watched my other hand as it snaked downward and adroitly unbuttoned his pants. I slipped inside and, blushing slightly after realizing that he had scandalously gone commando, I hesitantly gripped his erection. _Woah_. His eyes smugly met mine as I realized exactly how _big_ that score was. However, I was determined to make turnabout a fair play and I began stroking him slowly and more firmly.

I was trying not to worry, but my sexual experience was so limited that I was panicking slightly, trying to think of what to do next. Oral sex? How could I start that? I knew all of the technical stuff, but the actual motions- could I do it?

Luckily, Eric decided the next step. When my thumb grazed the tip of his penis, which was leaking precum, he groaned loudly and pulled back from me and out of my grasp.

I bit my lip nervously as his dark, dangerous eyes burned into me. "I..I...I'm s-s-sorry," I stuttered, embarrassed that I had done something wrong or accidentally hurt him, and ashamed that my attempt at confidence had led me so far astray.

God, no wonder Bill hadn't stayed for a second time. I was pathetic at this.

A tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it. Eric's ardor dimmed and his expression rapidly changed to confusion.

"Sookie, don't apologize, please, if you are not comfortable with this, we should stop."

"Yeah, maybe we should," I said quietly, looking away. "Eric, I'm sorry if I hurt you, all of this is new to me, I've never really been physical or intimate with anyone before except..." My voice trailed off as he began to smile. Great, now he was laughing at me. My humiliation turned to anger. I didn't need this. Fuck. Him. I turned on my heel and stalked off.

Of course, he caught up with me in about half a second, and grabbed my wrist to make me turn around. I struggled for a moment when he swooped down to kiss me, but even Wonderwoman couldn't have resisted those lips. He finally broke away but continued to smile at me.

"Sookie, you're a darling, you know that?"

I frowned.

"I wanted you to stop because I was about embarrass myself and cum into your hand like a thirteen-year-old schoolboy." He placed my hand on his pants so that I could feel his rock-hard erection. "Can't you tell how much I want you? You're beautiful and intelligent and cook like a goddess- I don't give a damn about 'experience.' The only thing I insist on is honesty. I just want you to be yourself."

Still self-conscious, I barely stroked him. "Myself doesn't know what the heck it's doing, Eric! I just, I want to it to be as good for you as it is for me, and I don't know how..."

He kissed me. It started lightly and grew quickly in intensity. When I tried to move my hand, he wouldn't let me. When I tried to move _his_ hand to my breast, he wouldn't let me. Finally, I pulled away, breathless and confused.

He spoke carefully. "Sookie, I think we should take this more slowly. Obviously there is an attraction here, but we don't have to rush into anything."

I stared in disbelief. "You don't think I can keep up."

"Now, Sookie, I have demonstrated very _physically_," and here he ground into me a little, "that I think you are more than equal to the task. I just think on an emotional level, we should take a step back. I recently have come out of a long relationship, you also seem a little unsure of-" I pounced on him, knocking him back to the couch. "Sookie, what the hell?" he protested as I cut him off by hungrily pressing my lips to his.

I went on instinct, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. Holy mother of God, he was HUGE! I tried not to think about how he might not fit in me as I pumped him in long, hard, torturously slow strokes. Looking directly into his eyes, which were practically turning black, I asked innocently, "Mr. Northman, will you be taking a grade on this?"

He seemed to have a delayed understanding of words at that point because he didn't answer but only watched, fascinated as I stuck my tongue out and licked the weeping slit of his cock. He jerked slightly and then when I took the entire head into my mouth, he grabbed the couch and groaned. I noticed with satisfaction that he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of me.

My attention returned to the task at hand, literally. It felt like I was sucking on a ridiculously large jawbreaker. I went partly on instinct, partly on vague memories of some crude stories Amelia had told me about her own adventures, and tried not to let my teeth touch him as I took more of his hard length into my mouth. This seemed to be the right thing to do because Eric groaned again and moved one hand to my hair.

"Sookie, Jesus, God, feels so good..." he mumbled, tilting his head back.

I continued to suck and pump for a bit longer, and then totally removed my mouth and hands. He looked at me as if in a daze.

"Use your words to tell me what you want," I said patronizingly, in an echo of his teasing in the bathroom earlier.

Eric, however, was not amused. He stood, zipped his pants, and I rocked back onto my butt, thinking that maybe I had gone a little too far. But then he bent down and scooped me up. I asked him where we were going but he didn't answer. We entered what must have been his bedroom, and he unceremoniously threw me on the bed. Without giving me a chance to settle, he covered his body with mine, pulling my legs to cross behind his back, kissing me deeply, and grinding into me at a steady pace.

_We are in Eric's bed. We are about to have sex_, I thought wondrously.

Somehow we managed to twist, albeit messily, out of our clothes and suddenly it was just him and me, as naked as Adam and Eve. He was still on top of me, his erection pressing into my thigh as we kissed. Finally Eric pulled back and reached for something in his bedside drawer. I shook my head and whispered shyly that I was on the pill, and then slid up to the pillow. He joined me again, kissing me thoroughly before his hand moved between us. I drew in a breath as he guided his cock to my tight, slick entrance. He pushed the tip of it in slowly, and my head pressed back against the pillow. There was a small twinge of pain, but it was overshadowed by the insanely pleasurable feeling of being filled by him. He continued to ease himself in, swiveling a little so that he rubbed against my clit and I became wetter and more lubricated.

Once he was completely seated inside of me, I instinctively wrapped my legs around his back, as if to keep him there. My brain was on autopilot. _So good, so good, so good_, it repeated constantly. He looked into my eyes and said passionately, "So wet and tight for me, Susannah. Only for me. You are _mine_."

Never did I think that the caveman, possessive thing would do it for me, but boy-oh-boy had I been wrong. I moaned at his words, and then again, louder, when he pulled out a little and thrust in gently. At first, his size was so overwhelming that I couldn't move. His hand descended and his fingers played my clit. The next time he pulled out and thrust in, I moved my hips to mirror his. We did this a few times, until the depth of his thrusts increased and my hips started moving faster to met his in a steady rhythm.

"Sookie, Sookie, fuck, so tight, so good," Eric was practically chanting as he pounded into me and I rocked back eagerly against him. He was obviously the talker of the two of us; I couldn't vocalize a solid word, only breathy moans. I felt the most delicious pressure building in my belly and I grasped onto his shoulders, encouraging him as he rode me harder, faster, deeper. My eyes gazed lustfully and wantonly into his, and I finally had coherent thought. _This is how it should always be. This is right._ The thought ended as his hand moved back down between us and rubbed my pleasure center. I exploded, there was no other word for it, keening loudly. My inner muscles clenched around his cock, and Eric buried himself inside of me, roaring my name as he came.

He collapsed none-too-gently on top of me, and we panted as our sweat-slicked bodies slid against each other. He started to raise himself up, but I whimpered slightly and tightened my arms and legs around him. He stopped and instead wrapped his arms under and around me. I loved feeling his entire weight pressed onto me; it made me feel secure and happy.

Eventually, I released him. He rolled to his side and then moved to spoon me. I was so exhausted that I barely registered the kiss he placed on my shoulder. With his arms around me, I drifted off to sleep.

And unlike my first experience, I awoke blissfully sated the next morning, still in Eric's embrace.

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Coming up: Back to class! How will it be now that the weekend and honeymoon, so to speak, are over? And the much anticipated introduction of The Villain, who I didn't get to because Mr. Northman seduced me with promises of opportunities for extra credit :D


	6. Clumsy

A/N: My college classes have been particularly heinous this week- I'm taking 17 hrs :((((- but I will try to get up another chapter by Sunday! I love, love, LOVE you guys for the reviews, and I hope I'm answering some of ya'll's questions in this one...That being said, this chapter is a little different. Think Tarantino, where it jumps from F to B to C to, like, R to D to F. In case I have royally f'd this up, I included a little recap timeline at the end. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to Charlaine Harris.

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_Sookie POV_

I smiled to myself, giddy with happiness, as I practically skipped into the school. Orange and brown leaves crunched obligingly under my boots, and I took a moment to marvel over the past two months. Although I had initially been worried about how to behave at school on Monday, Eric and I had decided to just go about our business as normal. We didn't want to think about the potential firestorm of controversy that our relationship might cause, so we agreed to continue seeing each other outside of school on the weekends (when Gran thought I was at Amelia's- I know, I know, I shouldn't be lying to my grandmother of all people, but it seemed like the only thing that was truly impossible was being without Eric).

Throughout September and most of October, we started finding ways to be around each other almost all of the time. It was the most glorious feeling in the world to wake up next to him on a Saturday morning, to share coffee and toast and eggs with him, to read the morning paper together in such a blissfully normal way. I had always wondered what it would be like to be in a serious relationship, but ironically I had slipped into it almost effortlessly.

In the present, I couldn't help grinning like a loon when I thought of our first fight. It might sound ridiculous that this was one of my favorite memories, but it's really the make-up sex that was so fucking fantastic. (Yes, curse word-inducing fantastic!) On that day, three weeks exactly after we had begun our relationship, the topic of Mr. Northman's (I had to concentrate on not calling him Eric when I was at school, even in my thoughts) class had been "women of the Roman Empire," since we had studied about the more notorious Roman emperors for the last week or so.

Mr. Northman had delivered a particularly damning and bitter diatribe about some of the "loose" women, like both Julia the Elder and the Younger (both of whom were related to the first and one of the greatest emperors, Augustus, who was ironically pushing a new code of morality) and also Messalina (the promiscuous wife of Claudius who was executed for plotting against him). I understood that Mr. Northman wanted to demonstrate how seemingly minor players changed the history of Rome and affected the city, but I knew his personal views were heavily influencing his teaching and for some reason, it really irked me. Not because he still wouldn't talk about his ex-wife, no, of course not, that definitely wasn't it....

But as all good history teachers should, he was trying to emphasize that history is generally recorded and therefore formed by wealthy males, and, on principle, I agreed with his method of entertaining other marginalized historical perspectives. However, when I tried to argue that there were other women of the Roman Empire who were effective in positive ways, he completely shut me down. Every time I tried to reference the contribution of a Roman woman, he scornfully tore apart each word of my suggestion. The class was split between being amused and feeling awkward as I turned redder and redder with embarrassment and anger, and as Mr. Northman coldly, and with increasing superiority, dismantled each of my claims.

Finally, the bell sounded and although some of the students were supportive, (Claudine gave me a sympathetic look and whispered what a jerk Mr. Northman was being, right in front of him, as she left), others just looked relieved to be getting the hell out of dodge. I sat fuming for a moment, glaring at his head as he bent to shuffle the papers on his desk. I remember him finally looking up at me with those eyes, which were not the comforting, warm blue with which I was familiar but a raw glacial shade. As I stalked past him on my way out, I spat out poisonously, "I'm not _her_, so don't treat me like I am, asshole."

I barely registered the shock on his face and felt slightly guilty for a moment, but not enough to turn around when he called out for me to come back. I got as far as the parking lot when I noticed that in my intense rage, I had accidentally left my purse in the room. I realized I could either try to go a day without my cell phone, wallet, car keys, etc. (yeah, right), or I could suck it up and grab my stuff as quickly as possible.

I was determined not to look at him when I walked back into the classroom, but as I approached the door, I saw that he was resting his face in his hands with his elbows on the desk. I could read the frustration rolling off his body in giant tsunami-like waves, and unwillingly, I felt myself soften. Obviously this witch of an ex-wife had really done a number on him. I knocked before I went in, and he straightened almost immediately when he realized it was me. I looked out in the hallway, noting that it was clear, and I stepped inside, closing the door and pulling down the shade over its large square window. Mr. Northman- Eric- stood and reached for me when I did something that surprised us both.

I forcefully pushed his hand away and slapped him hard.

"Don't you _dare_ confuse me with your whore of an ex-wife _ever_ again," I said, shaking with anger, at him, and her, and even myself, "I am Sookie, your Susannah; I would never do that to you, you idiot. So you better smarten up and start to recognize that I care about you, and you care about me, and people who care don't treat each other like you just treated me."

His only response was to gather me into his arms (à la romance novel style) and kiss me feverishly. I channeled my anger into an eager exploration of his body. I murmured a slight concern about the door not being locked, and he distractedly answered that he didn't give a fuck. He spun me around so that I was trapped between his desk and his erection. He kissed, licked, sucked my neck as he motioned for me to bend over it. His hand was up my skirt, tearing away my underwear in an instant, and he had me writhing in orgasm over his fingers in the next. As I was coming back down, I heard him lower his zipper, and I grew impossibly wetter as I thought about the image of Eric fucking me from behind on his desk, at school, behind an unlocked door.

He eased inside of me, gripping my hips and urging me against him in a steady rhythm until he was pounding me into another blissful climax. As I spasmed around his cock, he thrust one last time before coming hard. He caressed my thighs as he pulled out and I weakly rolled over onto my back, still breathing heavily as he pulled up his pants, tucked in his shirt, and zipped back up.

He stepped back and smirked at me, the hot mess who was currently content to lay there forever.

"I take it I am forgiven?"

I nodded but replied, "Don't forget what I said, Eric."

He looked slightly somber until I added, "And we should fight more often, because that was just...spectacular."

I sat up and pulled him to me, and we kissed. Less than ten seconds after I had broken away to tidy myself up, there was a knock on the door. I looked, wide-eyed, at Eric, who directed me to a desk and shoved a miscellaneous paper under my nose. "You are studying," he whispered.

He quickly moved to his desk- the very one he had just fucked me senseless on- and loudly invited in the person at the door. It was Ms. Ravenscroft, who had a question about one of the resources Mr. Northman had recommended. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn she looked back and forth between us several times with a raised eyebrow. However, I didn't feel hostility radiating from her; it was more like...incredulous amusement.

Finally, Ms. Ravenscroft finished her discussion with Mr. Northman and headed out the door. I was about to sigh with relief when she commented casually over her shoulder, "Sookie, I believe you have a paperclip stuck in your hair."

I hastily combed through my hair with my fingers while thanking her. She gave me a tiny grin but it disappeared when she followed my instinctively panicked look that I threw at Mr. Northman. He met her gaze reluctantly, and in an instant, Ms. Ravenscroft's attitude changed. It seemed like she passed on a silent but nonetheless effective admonishment. If her expression was saying, "I know what you just did and you are a dumbass if you think I will let you get away with that again without reporting it," his was saying, "I'm sorry, God, I know this is wrong and she's a student, but _please_ don't fucking tell anyone and it definitely _will not_ happen again."

After a long pause, she left. Mr. Northman and I looked at each other with mutual relief and I said softly that I would see him tomorrow.

And that was the story of our first fight and the only time we fucked in his classroom. Um, well, there were some other instances...

My mind rolled back into the present day as I entered the courtyard and found Amelia at our usual table. She started to tell me about this new guy she was interested in, Bob. They had a meet-cute when he showed up at her house and she slammed the door on him because she thought he was a Jehovah's Witness or Morman missionary. Finally, she gave him a chance to explain that he had lost his cat and then she offered to help him look for it. They hit it off while they were searching, and now they had a date for Friday. Amelia went over every single detail about Bob, including descriptions of his "adorably nerdy" stiff, white, collared shirt and high-waisted black pants, and I couldn't help but drift a little.

I started to think about the other sexual exploits that Eric and I had had on school grounds. Okay, there were only two other instances, (well, four total, including the bathroom and his desk, and oh my goodness, wasn't I just turning into a tarty little strumpet?), but they were also pretty darn memorable and I couldn't say that I had regretted even one of them.

Like during the week right after our first date, (and about two weeks before The Desk incident), when I decided to get a little creative during my period as an Office Aide. I wrote a note for Mr. Northman on an official slip and discreetly snuck out of the front office. I knocked on his classroom door and when he opened it, he covered his surprise with a slightly bored look. I handed him the note, feigning indifference for any students that might have been watching, and had to force myself not to look at his reaction when I turned to leave.

It took him less than a minute to meet me in the textbook/storage closet that was a few doors down. I pulled him to me and for a little while we made out in the dark like teenagers, (of which I was still technically one, but he was twenty-five, so it was still nice to just enjoy each other somewhat innocently). Eventually, though, we both wanted more and began to shed our clothes about halfway.

As he started to fuck me against the wall, I asked him breathily how his day was going so far. He responded that it had just gotten better, and did I want to come over again this weekend or go somewhere else? I couldn't decide and before I could really think about it, he distracted me with those long, talented fingers in all the right places. We came simultaneously, and I bit into his bare shoulder to keep from crying out. As he stilled, I clung to him and replied, in an uneven voice, that his house was fine, more than fine, even. He pulled back and smiled. We fixed ourselves up, he gave me another kiss, and he left. I waited a few moments before leaving, and headed in the opposite direction with a contented blush and goofy smile on my face.

Again, I forced myself into the present. Jeez, I was worse than an Alzheimer's patient today. I caught the end of Amelia's story and hoped that I had nodded and "mmhmm"ed in the right places. She was glowing slightly with excitement and didn't seem to notice how carefully I was (or rather, wasn't) paying attention. The first bell rang and we headed to our respective classes. I passed the main bulletin board and noticed an old flyer for the Talent Show, which had been about a week ago.

I couldn't help but allow myself the luxury of recalling that fourth illicit incident on school grounds. After The Bathroom, and The Storage Closet, and even The Desk, there was The Talent Show. Yes, these things all deserved to be capitalized, but maybe none more so than the last and most recent one.

The first couple of acts in the show weren't bad; there were two bands, one dance number, and a slew of other miscellaneous performances. I was a little bored until the curtains opened and I saw Eric sitting there in the spotlight, wearing a black tank and dark jeans. He was holding an acoustic guitar and, with his blond hair held back in a loose ponytail, he looked like a freakin' rock god. Yum. After the audience noticeably quieted, and there was the inevitable collective swoon from the female contingent, I thought rather jealously that he had never told me he could play the guitar.

He looked into the audience and somehow found my eyes, although the lights must have been almost blinding. He began strumming a familiar tune, and I could feel wetness seeping through my panties as I recognized it as Dave Matthews Band's _Crash Into Me._ Later, I would recall that it was an abridged and carefully edited version of the song, but at the time, it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping on stage and fucking him in front of everyone.

As I watched his long, agile fingers work the guitar, and I listened to his tender, melodious voice singing a song that I knew was for me, his lover, I fiercely felt the need to claim him as **mine**. My eyes narrowed as I noticed a group of girls edging towards the stage, in a move that was reminiscent of a pack of feral wolves. As Eric's voice faded with the end of the song, the entire audience broke out in thunderous applause and a standing ovation. The groupies at the front screamed excitedly like they were at an Aerosmith concert, and Eric smirked in my direction as he took a short bow before heading backstage. I even saw Ms. Ravenscroft exasperatedly pulling away a girl who was trying to unhook her bra and throw on stage.

I silently slipped out of the auditorium and headed backstage. I cracked open the door and saw him standing, surrounded by congratulators and admirers. His blue eyes met mine and I nodded subtly in the direction of the hallway.

I started walking away from the door, knowing he would follow. In perhaps the riskiest move we had made so far, I let him catch up to me before slamming him against a locker and pressing my lips against his.

I crashed into him.

We kissed violently, teeth clashing, biting and nipping at each other's lips until a coppery taste tinged my mouth, but I couldn't tell which one of us was bleeding, or even where one of us ended and the other began.

Finally he pulled away, and his dark eyes said everything. We slipped into the Teacher's Lounge. He closed the door behind us and reached for me again. I pushed him onto the couch, and straddled him, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck. For a moment, we just stared at each other.

"I didn't know you played the guitar, or that you could sing," I stated simply.

He smiled gently and stroked my cheek with his thumb.

"I'm full of surprises. Some of them are even good."

I kissed him, and when he finally maneuvered himself inside of me, I leaned back slightly, feeling so full and whole, as I did every time we were together. I rode him slowly and for the first time, we were making love somewhere outside of his home. Yes, we'd had sex in the school, but it had never been like this....so...so slow, and delicious, and heady...feeling him move inside of me, thinking about how so many women wanted him but he was _mineonlymine_, remembering that the entire population of the school was only a few feet away....

I gasped as I felt a tiny orgasm ripple through my body, but felt pressure continue to build in my womb. It was different from anything I had experienced before with Eric, even at his house; there was nothing frantic or frenzied or animalistic, just the languid, pleasurable movement of my body against his, over and over and over again, as I rose and fell. It was so real to have him physically there with me, but also surreal because it everything else had literally faded into the background.

I could tell Eric felt the same way. His chest rumbled as he chanted, almost worshipfully, "Susannah, Susannah, Susannah."

When he stroked my clit, I came in waves. He clutched me against him as he sought his own release. My arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, my face was resting on his chest; his head was buried in my hair and shoulder, and his large hands moved in soothing circles on my back.

I felt something wet and cool on my arm and I realized it was a tear. And before I could stop myself, I was sobbing and shaking. Thankfully, Eric didn't pull away or ask what was wrong. Instead, he continued to stroke my back and even rocked me slightly from side to side.

Once my irrational outburst had ceased, I disentangled myself and was too cowardly to look into his concerned eyes. Silently, I stood and fixed my clothing, and felt him do the same thing behind me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I reluctantly turned around but still wouldn't look at him. He cupped my chin between his index finger and thumb and raised my head. I was sure that I looked like a mess with red, swollen eyes and a stuffy nose, but I fearfully and finally met his sapphire orbs.

They were kind and electric and alive as he spoke.

"I love you, Sookie."

_Coach Quinn POV_

Something was going on.

Now, no one would ever accuse me of being a genius, but it seemed like every time I saw the smokin' hot sister of my star quarterback Stackhouse, she was hanging around that idiot newbie, Eric Northwoman, as I liked to call him. In fact, I chortled with laughter whenever I thought of my clever name for him. (I thought Pam Ravenscroft would appreciate it too, but that bitch is one tough nut to crack. She must be a lesbian or something, because I've hit on her, like, a million times, and there's no way a girl turns down John Quinn unless there is something seriously wrong with her, like she likes chicks or whatever.)

Anyway, once I saw him follow her into the girls' bathroom (!!!) and I would have checked it out except I was running late and couldn't miss the damn bus that was taking us to Shreveport for an away game. But another time, during school, I saw him leave a storage closet and then her leave a few minutes later.

Yeah, something was definitely going on. And when I found out exactly what, I'd probably use it to blackmail that Stackhouse slut into sleeping with me. Hey, it's been a while and a man has needs, you know? And obviously she has pretty low standards to be with Northwoman, (heh heh heh), and I'm clearly a step up, especially for the ladies who like to be blinded by the glare from my bald shiny head every time we're outside.

_____________

I knew I had to find a way to catch them, that's why I was so excited that I nearly dropped the fuckin' camera before I had a chance to take a picture of them doing it in the Teacher's Lounge during the Talent Show. Now I just had to figure out when she would be alone, show her the evidence, and then fuck her. Hey, it's no coincidence that Quinn rhymes with WIN. Fuck yeah, and that goes for State too!!! GO BALD EAGLES!!!!!

_____________

So I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing, but to recap: Sookie is walking into school on an October morning, thinking about the last two months. In order, the events were: the bathroom tryst, dinner at Eric's, the storage closet quickie, lemons (instead of apples!) on the teacher's desk, and sexytime at the talent show/teacher's lounge.

Coming up, (maybe in an Eric POV): How did Sookie respond to Eric's declaration??? How are things between them now??? (She is skipping to class, so that could be a clue, haha...but things _might _start to unravel pretty quickly over the holidays.) And what exactly is going to happen with that big, not-so-lovable doofus Quinn???

(The answer to one of these questions is that Pam will knee him in the crotch.)


	7. Up Up & Away

A/N: LOVE YA'LL for the fantastic, v helpful reviews; they seriously make my week!!!!...so Coach Quinn didn't make it into this chapter (I know how heartbroken ya'll must be!), but another antagonist did, so I guess it balanced out. Enjoy!!!

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equally awesome Charlaine Harris, and I also borrowed a version of her phrase, "Oh, that Pam."

____________

_Eric POV_

The last few weeks had been a fantastic blur. I thought after Vivienne that there was no way I would ever be able to fall for someone again, but Sookie Stackhouse had completely changed everything. She was bright and vivacious and caring; whereas Viv had been like a dark, plaguing succubus, Sookie was the sun in the evening, warm, calming, and reassuring. Sometimes her reactions surprised me, (like how she had responded that first time in the bathroom, and at my house before we made love- who knew she could be such a convincing little minx?), but I trusted her implicitly. In a way that, I was realizing now, I had _never_ trusted Vivienne.

Sookie seemed to emanate maturity that went beyond her eighteen years. I never worried that she might try to use our relationship as leverage in my class; if anything, it was the opposite. She continued to strive to earn my respect, more so now than ever, and God help me, I found that enthusiasm only increased her attractiveness. A gorgeous student who not only gives me "what for" when I'm wrong in the classroom, but also turns around for me to fuck her in almost the same breath? I surrender.

And despite that almost worldly wisdom of hers, she was still endearingly naive about sex and relationships in general. But God, it was fun to introduce her to new things and even better when she surprised me; it made me hard just thinking about that time in storage closet. Although she could be somewhat domineering before or after we fucked, it was about the most goddamn sexiest thing I'd ever witnessed whenever she yielded to me completely during the act itself. That I could bring her to her knees, quite literally, made me feel powerful and in control, something so vital to my personality, something that Viv had so casually taken from me, and it was just another reason I found myself so attracted to Sookie. This might seem selfish, but truly, there was a constant, mutual giving and taking between us, and it had allowed me to find a peace that had so eluded me after the divorce.

The only, and I mean _only_, thing that was obviously not ideal was that I was her teacher. We hadn't discussed anything serious about our relationship; it was almost like we were too afraid to contemplate what the other might possibly be thinking about it. Other than agreeing to basically keep it hidden at school, (well, trying to, at any rate), nothing further had been decided. But as our exploits grew in number and intensity, I knew beyond all doubt that I cared about Sookie very, very much. Certainly enough to risk my job and my reputation for her.

But it wasn't the sex or its illicit nature that I couldn't stop thinking about now, it was the time we spent together on the weekends, relaxing and just _being_. It was the most drama-free relationship I had ever been in, which was just the most fucking ironic thing ever considering the circumstances.

And of course, it was her non-verbal confession in the teacher's lounge that prompted me to reveal exactly how deep my feelings ran.

I hadn't even realized it until I felt her sobbing against me, and although I didn't know exactly why she was, I did know that I never wanted her to cry again. Our lovemaking had been so intense, I eventually assumed that might be the cause, and when she turned away from me in shame, I knew what I needed to do. As I uttered those three words, I could feel her contentedness returning, and for a blissful moment when she responded that she loved me too, it encompassed me entirely. I felt like the Grinch; an old, jaded bastard whose heart had been a few sizes too small until that instant, and then it was ready to jump out of my chest.

On one particularly gorgeous fall day, soon after the talent show, I decided that Sookie and I should go on a date. It seemed odd that we had inadvertently skipped over what was such a seemingly normal step in most relationships, but it was so refreshingly natural and comfortable to simply "hang out." Although naturally I hadn't spoken about us to anyone, Pam did know that something was going on (well, no shit) after the time she had caught us. She had the appropriate response (i.e. to call me an asshole the next day) but she was also surprisingly understanding when I accidentally mentioned Sookie in a romantic context a few days later, while we were hanging out in my classroom during our break. She made it clear that she was adamantly opposed to the inappropriateness of our relationship, but in her next sentiment, she seemed to have overcome her initial opinion tolerably well and started to offer advice.

"Eric, this is why I only date women. You are unbelievably obtuse. I don't care which woman you're talking about; pretty much all of us like to be wined and dined. For obvious reasons, I understand why you want to keep this under wraps, but I can guarantee there won't be anything to hide if you don't take her out on a date, like, yesterday."

I pondered this (her idea and her sudden change of heart, which I could only try to attribute to her knowing that Sookie was a mature, balanced individual) for a moment before responding.

"I don't know, Pam, she hasn't said anything about going out on an actual date, and she seems to like spending time at my house..."

Pam rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly.

"Fine, Eric, don't listen. But I'm sure you've noticed, as I have, that Sookie seems to be attracting a lot of attention recently from that new student, Sam Merlotte. Who I actually overheard asking her out last week."

No, I had _not _noticed this. What the fuck??? I gripped my coffee cup so hard that I almost expected it to crumble into dust in my grasp. Pam raised an eyebrow as she observed my reaction. I glared at her a little and she just shrugged her shoulders cheekily before sailing out of the room and sing-songing, "You should read more Dear Abby."

Oh. That. Pam.

So anyway, here I was, looking at the gorgeous orange and yellow leaves on the tree outside of my classroom, while considering where to take Sookie for our first official date. When I mentioned it to her after class that day, she did respond favorably, which made me think that maybe Pam did sort of know what she was talking about. I made plans to pick Sookie up at seven on Friday. She was worried that someone might recognize my truck and she told me to meet her at the end of her driveway, but I said that I would be driving something different, anyway, and not to worry.

That night, I wore one of my only nice suits; a black, excellently fitted suit, with a white shirt and a black skinny tie. To keep it from seeming too "retro," the pants were more low-slung on my hips than a normal men's pant. I had actually put some effort into my hair, which after some experimentation, I had decided to leave loose. On the whole, I felt excited to be getting ready for a date with my girlfriend. While I anticipated the welcome change of pace and scenery, I slid into my cherry red Corvette; it had been Vivienne's and it was the only thing I had taken from our sham of a marriage. Not because I had been bitter (although I had), but because it was a gorgeous car and quite frankly, after what she had done, I decided that I deserved this little baby. Quickly, though, I shook off any negative thoughts and concentrated on having a wonderful date with Sookie.

******

_Sookie POV_

When Eric asked me out on an actual _date_, I'm pretty sure my mouth caught a fly or two, it was opened so wide. It was something I had thought about from time to time, but I didn't broach the subject before because there were plenty of reasons for him to be hesitant about the idea. And truthfully, I was a little old-fashioned in the sense that I wanted _him_ to ask me, because _he_ was the boy. (So sue me, I'm too romantic to be a feminist.)

Fortunately, Jason was at an "away" game a few towns over, and Gran's Descendents of the Glorious Dead club had convened for a special meeting that night; it was some anniversary or something. I casually mentioned that I might spend the night at Amelia's, and she responded distractedly that I had been spending a lot of time there recently, but it was A-Okay with her. As soon as she had pecked my cheek and left, I waited about half a beat before scrambling to my room and throwing off my ratty clothes. I showered and shaved, used my favorite smelling shampoo, blow-dried and curled my hair, and pampered the heck out of myself before finally slipping into my dress at a quarter till seven. Stepping back, I checked out my reflection in the mirror.

I had chosen a gold dress with a daringly (for me, at least) strapless bustier. The color was light and classy, and it complimented the particular shade of blonde that my hair was, while still emphasizing my tan. It was a pretty tight little number, and I silently thanked the creator of Spanx for helping me fit into a size 6 for the evening. My hair was glossy and cascaded over my shoulders in loose waves, slightly covering my delicate gold earrings, and my strappy matching heels completed the look. I touched up my lipgloss, checked the clock, and headed out the door. I stopped short, however, when I was confronted with a bright red...sexmobile in my driveway. My confusion turned to horniness when a handsome blonde man stepped out of the driver's side. Eric confidently walked around the hood of the car and I took the opportunity to unabashedly leer at him, and his gorgeous ass that wouldn't quit...making me horny. It was the first time I had seen him in a suit and, sweet Lord, he wore it well. He was so tall and smelled so good and my mind was turning to mush as he smirked and bent down to give me a kiss. I was ready to drag him inside and have my wicked way with him, but he gently disentangled himself and stepped back.

"Sookie, you look fantastic."

I gave him a pleased grin and did a little turn.

"You think so? You're not so bad yourself..." I moved to kiss him again and more deeply and felt him pulling away again.

He groaned lightly as I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. "Eric, we don't _have_ to go out tonight. In fact, I'm not so sure I want any other women to see you looking this delicious. My house is empty, for at least another hour or so...." I cajoled.

He seemed to shake himself out of his reverie, and looked down at me with mock disapproval. "Now, Sookie, I have a _very_ nice evening planned for us," (his accent became more apparent on the "very"), "and there will be plenty of time for _that_ later."

I shivered a little and, swear to goodness, felt my panties dampen as he gave me an obvious look about what "that" exactly might be.

A little reluctantly, I allowed him to lead me to the car and I slid onto the buttery leather seat after he had opened the door for me. He closed it after I was securely seated, and strode around to his side while I continued to ogle him and wonder a little at my good fortune. Before he started the car, his blue eyes met mine and I noticed a boyish gleam in them.

"Hold on," he warned playfully, before roaring off towards our destination.

The drive was about forty-five minutes or so, but it was a pleasant one. I realized, but wisely didn't comment, on the fact that he had avoided the main roads going through Bon Temps. Instead, I focused on our conversation.

I already knew that Eric liked classic rock, (Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, etc.) but he seemed to have a pretty eclectic playlist going at the moment. As we chatted about different things happening around school and in our personal lives, (more about his family and my friends), I vaguely recognized some Kings of Leon, Muse, Jack Johnson, the Eagles, and other miscellaneous artists.

However, I paused when Dave Matthews Band came on. My left hand moved to cover Eric's right hand, which was resting on the gearshift. With his eyes still on the road, he briefly brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. My breath caught and I smiled to myself as I thought about that night. We weren't even at the restaurant yet, and already this was the best date I had ever been on.

**********

_Eric POV_

Never again.

I was resolved never to take Sookie out in public again. She was too fucking gorgeous; every single man in the place was trying to eye-fuck her as we walked in. She practically glowed with happiness and youth. I wondered, not for the first time, how in the hell I had ended up with someone so incredibly honest and good.

After we were seated, she glanced at me excitedly and whispered, "I cannot _believe_ that you got reservations here! I've heard so much about this restaurant, its supposed to be impossible to get a table; how did you do it?"

I was still a little angry about the attention she was continuing to receive and I replied coldly, "It wasn't too difficult to figure out that this was an excellent restaurant. And fortunately, I know the co-owners."

Almost immediately the glow faded and she faltered at my tone, looking at me with a slightly hurt expression. My inner voice reprimanded me for being such an ass; _it wasn't her fault, I trust her, she's not Vivienne,_ I repeated in my mind, but somehow it wasn't computing.

A slight blush stained her cheeks and she looked down at the menu and slightly bit her lower lip. An awkward silence fell over our table. I knew I was ruining what had started out as a great night, and I hated myself for it. She seemed to be staring at the menu but not really looking at it; after a moment, she set it down and, without looking me in the eye, excused herself.

I leaned back in my chair and exhaled heavily. I had to get myself under control. This was ridiculous.

I ignored the pointed stares she was getting as she walked back to our table and focused on what was truly remarkable- the fact that she didn't seem to notice a single one of them. She ventured a glance at me and I couldn't help but smile, albeit a little bitterly.

"You don't even notice them, do you?"

She looked confused so I continued.

"Sookie, every single man in this room has been staring at you since we walked in."

Comprehension finally dawned in her features, and the glow returned as she maintained eye contact while replying, very matter-of-factly, "Yes, but that doesn't matter, because I'm here with you, stupid."

I laughed and leaned slightly against the table as I held her hands in mine. "Oh, Sookie, why do you put up with me?" While I was mostly kidding, part of me was curious and wanted a serious answer.

She fluttered her eyes and answered innocently, "Why, for your body, of course..."

I snorted softly.

"...and for all the little things you do, like the foot rubs you give me when we watch movies, and how you always open doors for me, and that you try so hard to make me happy, whether that means trying to cook or taking me to a fancy restaurant with French menus..." She paused and I felt my heart in my throat as she searched my eyes earnestly.

"I love you, Eric, so much. I just wish you would believe that I'd never hurt you."

She didn't even ask for the same reassurance, and guiltily, I realized I couldn't give it to her. God, I was a selfish jerk.

I leaned over to kiss her and as I began to pull back, I felt her deepen the kiss for a few moments longer than necessary. Finally, she released me and as I sat back in my seat, I asked, "What was that for?"

She nodded towards the bar area behind me, and I turned to see a woman sitting there who looked about sixty-five. She was wearing too much make-up, her face had been expertly Botoxed, and she was clutching a martini glass (probably not her first of the night). She winked exaggeratedly at me and as I turned back, horrified, to Sookie, she giggled and said, "Because I'm not the only one who has admirers."

*******

_Sookie POV_

After that initial hiccup, dinner had been fabulous. The fish was the best I had ever tasted in my life, and the dessert was practically an aphrodisiac. I felt punch-drunk on food and love and happiness as we left. It was a perfect fall evening, cool with a very slight breeze. The stars were out, the moon was full, and I snuggled a little closer to Eric as we headed towards his car. His arm was wrapped around my waist and he had thoughtfully draped his coat around me before we went outside. He made me laugh about something and I started to reply until I felt him stiffen next to me. There was a couple walking towards us; the woman was brunette and tall and thin and supermodel gorgeous, the man was good-looking, but in a more rugged sort of way.

Despite being slightly in awe of the woman's statuesque beauty, I immediately disliked her because of her disdainful expression. She hadn't spoken yet, but my bitch-meter reading was already off the charts.

Eric seemed to consider walking right past them, but they stopped in front of us.

"Eric, what a _surprise_ to see _you_ here," Brunette Bitch said, "I can't believe you can afford it on your _teacher's_ salary," and here she stage-whispered the word "teacher," as if it was dirty. The man she was with, who seemed a lot hairier up close, looked a little uncomfortable and fidgeted.

Eric answered tersely, and his accent was more pronounced than I had ever heard it before, "Vivienne, don't be ridiculous, you know I am friendly with both of the owners. And I believe that _teaching_ is more honorable than your profession- wait, what is that again? I believe the euphemism is, 'the oldest one in the book?'"

She smiled wickedly and seemed undeterred. Turning to me, she sneered, "I don't know, but I'm sure your escort probably does. Why don't you ask her? Or is it that she's not old enough to speak? Jesus Christ, Eric, she really does look young enough to be one of your students."

Eric blanched slightly at this, but I quickly drew her attention back to me.

"Oh, you must be the ex-wife that I haven't heard anything about. I'm so glad to finally meet you," I gushed with sincerity.

She looked confused for a moment, but I continued with my Southern-girl simple.

"Well, it's just that I've been wanting to thank you. Because you cheated on Eric, now I get to have great sex with him all of the time, and everywhere, and in more positions than I could have ever imagined. So thanks!" I wrapped my arm more firmly around Eric's waist and steered him towards the car.

He seemed a little shell-shocked as he fumbled for his keys. I smoothly took them out of his hand and he recovered long enough to open my door before getting in on his side and starting the car. It ran for a moment as we sat in silence.

Suddenly he turned and smashed his lips to mine. I pushed back eagerly and moved to straddle him. In between kisses, he murmured, "God, I love you."

I unzipped his pants and his large hands pushed up my dress and undergarments. I thought to myself that I was happy that I hadn't worn the full body Spanx, and I immediately placed him at my entrance. His eyes were dark and worshipful as I slowly slid onto him.

His hands moved to the back of my dress and he pulled down the zipper, caressing and feasting on my collarbone and shoulders and neck as my dress crumpled down, baring my breasts to him. He took one hard nipple into his mouth and then moved to the other, while still lavishing attention on them with his fingers. Finally, I couldn't wait anymore and I began to ride him, hard. I came twice before Eric thrust into me one last time and I could feel him spill his hot seed into me. We were both breathing heavily and sweating against each other, but his hands continued to rub my shoulders and back and arms, as if he needed reassurance that I was still there.

I caressed his face with my hands. I could see pain there, and for the first time in my life, I felt pure hatred for someone. His ex-wife had almost ruined him; I was finally beginning to see just how deep and raw those wounds were. His vulnerability in that moment made me love him even more, and I resolved that nothing would come between us.

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Coming up: Sadly, less quality time for Sooric (Erikie?). The dastardly Quinn will unveil his plan, and the students of Bon Temps celebrate Halloween! I'm still trying to decide what costume to place Mr. Northman in, so suggestions are certainly appreciated :D


	8. World Spins Madly On

A/N: *BIG GIANT BEAR HUG* wow you guys are just the best!!!! Esp when I see that some of ya'll have taken the time to review each chapter, it gives me the warm-fuzzies!!! (And many thanks to those of you who have recommended this fic to others!)

So Halloween didn't make it into this chapter, but I'm working on getting another one out ASAP. I would say "Enjoy," as usual, but I'm not quite sure that's appropriate for this one....

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equally awesome Charlaine Harris.

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_  
Sookie POV_

The following Monday morning, I thought about our date while I was changing in the locker room for athletics (we were still required to take two years of it, and I had managed to put off that second year till now; whoever came up with this requirement, though, was a truly sadistic SOB). After removing my jewelry and tugging on my grey shirt and red shorts, I slammed my locker door shut and headed out of the room. Shoot, I was already running late- I _really_ needed to get a better hold on that daydreaming.

Totally absorbed in my own thoughts, I was startled and a little frightened when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me aside in the narrow hallway that led to the gym. I started to struggle when I realized that that "someone" was...Coach Quinn? Yech, that shiny bald head was even more disturbing up close. I gave him a wide-eyed, crazy, WTF? look as I wrenched my arm out of his clutches.

He brayed loudly and obnoxiously before he held up both arms, palms facing me, as he spoke. "Whoah, there, Miss Stackhouse. I'm sorry if I scared you but I need to talk to you in my office. It's, uh, about your gym credits." I gave him a slightly mistrustful look and rubbed my arm (ow, he had grabbed me pretty hard; I hoped it wasn't going to bruise) before following him as he turned and led me to his office, which was about two doors down.

I stood in the tiny room, with my arms crossed across my chest, and tried not to glare at him as he sat down at his desk. "Close the door behind you, will ya, babe? And, uh, take a seat."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

Babe? Just how old was this guy?

I reluctantly shut the door before sitting in the chair across from him, hoping that this wasn't going to take long and that he wasn't about to tell me I couldn't graduate because I had insufficient hours in gym. I mean, really, come on.

But what he said next floored me, and in a really bad way.

"Sookie, I know that you're sleeping with Northwo- uh, Northman. I have proof."

Oh shit.

What could I do?

Deny, deny, deny seemed to be my only option.

I said frostily, "I beg your pardon? That is the most outrageous accusation, how dare..." but my voice faltered and I went into shock when he held up a picture of Eric and I in flagrante delicto. It was a little blurry, but I realized that we were in the teacher's lounge....Oh my God, this creep had been watching us when Eric and I had first expressed our love for each other? Oh God, somebody knew.

I was going to be sick.

But it was about to get worse. Coach Quinn, instead of expressing disappointment in me, or looking grave at the thought of discovering such an illicit affair, had a slightly smug smile...and he was leering at me? No, that couldn't be right.

"Well, Sookie, this doesn't give me a lot of options. I should probably turn you both in, but..." his voice trailed off as he stood and moved around to sit on his desk. Subconsciously, I remembered Eric doing this the very first day of class and it was all I could do to stop myself from bursting into tears at this grotesque parody of that moment.

Before I could stop him, Coach Quinn leaned back on his desk and trailed one fat, stubby finger down my leg.

"It doesn't seem like you're really all that picky about who you let between your legs, babe. Why don't you let me have a go at it a couple of times, and I promise not to mention this to anyone. Northman can keep his job, I'll get laid, and you can keep your reputation as a golden girl. This way, _everyone_ gets what they want." He stared at my breasts as he spoke.

I was so confused and disgusted; my insides were warring against each other. I knew there was **no way in fucking hell **that I would ever let this creep touch me, but could I ruin Eric's life and mine without at least buying some time to figure out a way to get out of this?

I abruptly stood and tripped over the chair in my haste to get away from the demon that was perched in front of me. Coach Quinn called after me, "I want an answer by tomorrow, slut."

I yanked open the door and ran. I didn't know where I was headed, but it definitely wasn't towards gym class and it also wasn't necessarily towards Eric. I knew that Eric's reaction would be to want to tear Quinn limb from limb, but that still wouldn't achieve anything, except for adding assault and battery charges to the litany of potential offenses against him. I ended up outside on one of the benches and, feeling utterly wretched, I tried to control my breathing, but it wasn't long until tears were streaming down my face. I still felt nauseous, so I placed my head between my knees and prayed for a moment.

Suddenly I felt a presence on my right. My head shot up, and I saw Ms. Ravenscroft walking towards me with a concerned expression on her face.

"Sookie, what are you doing out here? Are you alright?"

I couldn't speak, so I just nodded tearfully. She took the seat next to me, and before I knew what I was doing, I told her everything. She didn't seem surprised, just concerned, so I wondered how much she had guessed already about our relationship. However, when I got to the part about Coach Quinn, her eyes narrowed and her lips moved back in a barely concealed grimace.

"...and I just don't know what to do, Ms. Ravenscroft. You're the only person I've told about us and-" I cut off as she patted my hand reassuringly.

"Sookie, Quinn is a bastard. Don't even worry about him. I'll fix everything, and if he ever so much as _looks_ at you, or even looks like he's _thinking_ about looking at you, he will be sorry." At this point, she smiled widely, and I was a little astonished and a lot impressed by the sheer ferocity of that smile.

"But he said he has proof; I'm terrified it will get out. And I don't know whether or not to tell Eric. The idea of him confronting Coach Quinn..." I shook my head miserably.

Ms. Ravenscroft spoke softly but firmly, "If I were you, I wouldn't mention this to Eric, and I give you my word that Quinn will seriously regret this little stunt and that that evidence _will_ disappear; however, perhaps you should refrain from engaging in these kinds of...activities on school property."

I was almost too ashamed to look at her, and settled instead for whispering a very grateful, "Thank you."

She patted my back before standing and heading towards the gym.

********

_  
Pam POV_

That sick motherfucker. Enraged, I barreled into his office and as he turned around, (he had been standing in the corner, talking on a phone), I grabbed his phone and threw it against the wall. The dumb bastard had the audacity to look at me hopefully, like he was expecting me to come onto him. In one swift move, I grabbed his shoulders and thrust my knee up into his groin. He doubled over, gasping for breath and wheezed out, "You...bitch..."

"John Quinn, you are the most disgusting, _pathetic _excuse for a man that I've ever had the absolute misfortune to meet. If you ever breath a word of this to anyone, my attorney will have you in jail so fast that your big giant bald head will be spinning, right off of your doughy, freakishly hairless body."

Fortunately, I saw that the evidence to which Sookie had been referring was lying on top of his desk, complete with the negatives. Thankfully, this Neanderthal apparently couldn't grasp the concept of modern technology, as well as that of equal rights, and it seemed like he had used a disposable camera.

I stepped over him, careful to find a spot, with my heel, on his groin area that was unprotected by his hands, and I pressed down hard as I did. He screamed again and cursed at me, but I walked out of the room and shut the door behind me.

As I stode down the hallway, I took a peek at one of the pictures. Hey, I'm only human, and it's not like I wasn't going to burn them the moment I got home...damn, these were kind of hot. Even though I wasn't interested in Eric like _that_, I had to hand it to the man for having one hell of a great body.

Sookie really was a nice girl, though, and I was definitely beginning to consider Eric as a good friend...God, I really hoped that no one else would find out about those two.

******

_  
Sookie POV_

For the rest of the day, I was distracted. Even in Eric's class, I couldn't fully concentrate. I wanted to follow Ms. Ravenscroft's advice, but then I worried about what might happen if Eric found out about Coach Quinn's attempt some other way. I couldn't risk destroying his trust; especially not after how far we had come in the past few months.

On Tuesday, I waited around through his tutorial session until finally I was the only one left. I told him that I needed to see him tonight, and he seemed concerned even as I reassured him that it wasn't anything serious.

That night, after I had arrived at Eric's house, I told him about Quinn. When I got to the part about Quinn's disgusting offer, he turned almost purple with rage. Honestly, I was a little frightened. I had _never_ seen him react so violently before; even the issue of his ex-wife made him cold and silent, not hot with anger. I was sitting on his couch, knees tucked under, and I could see his fingertips were turning white with the force he was exerting while subconsciously digging them into the arm and back of the couch. But it wasn't until he saw the slight bruising on my arm that the proverbial shit hit the fan, and it splattered everywhere.

Before I could stop him, he was out the door and he'd hopped into his truck. I shouted at him, but he just revved the engine and motioned for me to move my car out of the way. I ignored him and jumped into the passenger side instead.

His eyes were wild, he was staring straight ahead like a man possessed, and he was gripping his steering wheel so tightly I thought it might break off. I reached over and killed the engine. He turned to me furiously.

I didn't know what to say; there didn't seem to be anything that I _could_ say. So I settled for action.

I kissed him, gently at first, coaxing his lips to move against mine, and when he finally began to respond, I pressed more deeply against him.

Eventually, I broke away, gazed into his eyes and pleaded, "Please, don't, Eric."

He was still tense but he allowed me to finish my story. And because Ms. Ravenscroft had told me exactly what she had done in the coach's office, I related that to Eric, as well. Finally, finally, he relaxed and I thought I detected a hint of a smile when I told him about her almost complete emasculation of Quinn. But once I finished, he asked, "Sookie, why didn't you come to me first?"

I gestured to his death grip on the steering wheel as I said sarcastically, "Gee, I don't know Eric, maybe because I thought you might overreact?"

He frowned.

"Anything less than beating the shit out of that fucker wouldn't be enough of a reaction."

I gave him a look of disapproval. "By giving him tangible evidence to use against you, you would only be making this situation worse. I really think that Ms. Ravenscroft handled everything; I passed him in the hallway and he didn't even acknowledge me."

Eric growled in frustration and slammed both of his hands against the dashboard, making me jump a little. "That's not enough! Trying to blackmail a student into sleeping with him? It's beyond disgusting- he should be in jail!!!"

I sighed. "Sometimes we just have to play the hand we've been dealt, and make the best of a crappy situation. I do think we should take this as a warning, and not mess around at school anymore. It was actually pretty stupid of us to do that in the first place. And anyway, we've wasted too much time on that...loser. Please, can we go inside and enjoy what's left of the night?"

He shook his head slightly, but acquiesced, kissing me lightly before we both got out of the truck and headed in.

We resumed our places on the couch, with his arm stiffly placed around me and me curled up next to his lap. He started flipping through the channels, punching the buttons angrily, as I idly traced light circles on his thigh. He looked down at me, eyes darkening, and shut off the TV.

I expected him to kiss me or do something equally engaging, and I eagerly leaned forward. But instead he spoke, and his words were not what I wanted to hear.

"Maybe," he hesitated softly, "maybe this isn't such a good idea after all, Susannah."

I instantly pulled my hand back, as if it had been burned. I swallowed hard before trying to conceal my hurt with my response.

"Yes, I thought that's why we agreed not to be together at school."

"That's not exactly what I meant." He looked at me, nervous but also resolved.

I drew in a deep, shaky breath and on the exhale, I swear I could actually hear my heart collapsing in on itself. I tried to willfully misunderstand what he was saying. Because he couldn't mean _that_. He wouldn't. He knew how Bill had so cruelly abandoned me. _He wouldn't_, I repeated to myself, _he wouldn't_.

"The idea of our relationship being revealed, or you being taken advantage of by some piece of scum like that...it makes me sick, Sookie. You're so bright, you've got such a great future ahead of you. I don't want people to doubt your achievements, and if they find out that you've been having sex with one of your teachers?

The only viable solution is that perhaps we should..." and here he paused, gauging my reaction, "...break-up. We've never spoken about it, but you'll be going off to college next fall, and that's another experience that I don't want to take away from you- that I don't want the discovery of our _relationship_ to take away from you. I love you, you know I do, but what can we do when that's not enough?"

I sat completely still for a moment, not believing what I was hearing. I didn't know whether to be more offended by him implying that all we were doing was "having sex," or by him trying to decide the course of _my life_ for me.

He looked at me expectantly, like he was waiting for me to slap him or cry or beg or plead for him to reconsider. Well, I wasn't.

I numbly stood and walked to the door. With my hand on the doorknob, I turned back to him for a brief second.

"You are a coward, Eric Northman," I said in a hollow voice.

I left.

He didn't come after me.

It wasn't until later that evening, after I had shrugged off Gran's concerned looks and worried comments, when I was laying in my own bed, that I finally allowed myself to acknowledge the dull, aching pain that was radiating throughout my entire body. If I'd been a drinker, I would've drowned my sorrows with a bottle of Jack Daniels. If I'd been a druggie, I would've smoked something until I passed out. But since I was neither of these, only a high school student, I just lay there sobbing, feeling helpless and abandoned and alone. Very, very alone.

This was worse than Bill. That had been the barest shadow of what I was feeling now.

I wanted to die.

*******

_  
Eric POV_

All night, I tossed and turned, wondering if I had done the right thing. Her words were haunting me, the expression on her face when she said them...maybe I was a coward.

No, I was doing the right thing. It hurt like hell, but I loved her and that meant making sacrifices. Even if the sacrifice was not being with her.

I probably got less than half an hour of sleep, but as I drifted in the early hours of the morning, I finally felt the sun rise. I was a little disoriented as I reached across the bed for Sookie, and my eyes flew open when I remembered that she hadn't slept there last night, and that she wouldn't ever again. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.

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Coming up: Will these two crazy kids get it together in time for Halloween? Gosh, I sure hope so, b/c I really like the idea that lemon is the new orange....


	9. Never Say Never She Wolf

A/N: So I love all of your costume ideas, and that most of the suggestions began with "Eric naked, and covered only by a (fill-in-the-blank)." HA you guys crack me up! But I did some soul searching and came up with something a little different. I hope ya'll like it :D

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equally awesome Charlaine Harris.

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_Eric POV_

It was the day after we had broken up, and she looked like hell, although I was pretty sure I didn't look much better. She tiptoed into class, late, and didn't make eye contact with anyone. She wasn't wearing make-up, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair was totally unkempt. And not once did she look at me. To say that I was concerned would have been an understatement. For about the one thousand, two hundred, and thirty-fourth time, I questioned whether or not I had done the right thing.

When she showed up to class on Thursday looking the same way, with even darker circles under her eyes, I debated trying to talk to her, but she scampered out of the room the instant the bell sounded. I felt a heavy sense of guilt knowing that I was the cause, and an even greater sense of frustration. Every instinct in my body was telling me to go to her and apologize for being such a moron, and beg for her forgiveness.

The only thing that stopped me (and it was a huge, boulder-sized thing) was fear. (A small part of me unhappily acknowledged that Sookie had been justified in calling me a coward). But I knew how our relationship would be perceived by the rest of the world; on some level, I had always known, but the incident with that fucker Quinn seemed to bring everything into a sharper focus. I finally realized that it was completely possible (even probable) that someone else might find out, someone who wasn't understanding (unlike Pam) or who couldn't be silenced (unlike that piece of shit).

I didn't think it was fair to potentially place Sookie in a storm of controversy and criticism that might destroy her life. And if I was being totally honest, then yes, I was worried about my own future as well.

Time, I assured myself. Time was what we both needed.

Right.

*************

_  
Sookie POV_

The next two days were the most difficult of my entire life. And coming from someone whose parents had passed away when she was seven, that's really saying something bad. I couldn't commiserate with Amelia, or get advice from Claudine, or even talk to my grandmother about it, because our relationship was and had to remain a secret...even if it was over. God, every time I thought about it, there was a dull, empty ache in my chest. And as far as how I made it through Eric's class...I honestly didn't know. My inner-nerd (and more importantly, my Gran,) wouldn't have let me skip school, so somehow I suffered through it.

On Thursday night, while I was trying (and failing) to study for a pre-cal quiz on my bed, with my books spread out around me, Gran popped into my doorway.

"Sookie, you have a visitor. I know it's late, but I let them in anyway." Her eyebrows were slightly raised, but her soft tone and expression didn't tell me anything, and for a brief, irrational moment, I hoped against all odds that it was Eric.

Gran noticed my odd expression and spoke candidly. "Sookie, honey, if there's something you want to talk about, you know I'm always here. Just please, Lord, don't tell me you're knocked-up," she finished with a half-smile. I smiled weakly and assured her that I was fine, just fine, and not pregnant or anything like it. She pursed her lips a little, with concern- not judgment, but our relationship had always been one of trust, so she didn't push the issue as she turned and headed back to her room.

I glanced in the mirror before heading downstairs and wished I hadn't. I looked like, (pardon my language), shit. But it wasn't any different than how I had looked at school the last two days, so I just sighed deeply and tried to calm my nerves.

It wasn't Eric.

Once I was able to process this fact, I tried not to let my disappointment drown me. Amelia was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head at me in an almost motherly display of concern.

"Sookie Stackhouse, what the hell is going on with you?" she demanded.

"Hi, Ames," I said glumly and trudged back up the stairs as she followed. Once we were in my room, she shut the door and swept the books off of my bed in a totally Amelia-esque fashion, before plopping herself down on the comforter.

"Spill," she ordered.

I was too miserable to reprimand her for the mess she had made and proceeded instead to tell her about Eric and I. Naturally, I omitted his name, and occupation, and even where he lived, which caused Amelia to exasperatedly question my vague identification. I refused, though, and finally she allowed me to explain the highlights and lowlights of the story. I was pathetically proud that I only broke down in tears once. I thought to myself, bitterly, that I was improving.

Once I had finished, however, Amelia's first response was to scoff a little at my mystery man.

"This guy sounds like a loser. I don't get why he's so concerned about his reputation; I mean, twenty-five and eighteen aren't _that_ huge of an age difference. And who cares if you're in high school? Anyway, you're more mature than most eighty-year olds I know."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Ames, you really know how to cheer up a girl. Maybe I should just go as Grandma Sookie for Halloween and phone in the next fifty years of my life..."

She dramatically grabbed my shoulders and looked at me earnestly. "Sookie, do you really care about this guy? Like, he could be The One and all of that bullshit?"

I bit my lip before nodding a little.

She smiled. "Then here's what you need to do to get him back."

------------

Armed with new resolve, a really outrageous outfit, and my first Brazilian wax (Amelia had leaned on the other side of my closed bathroom door and instructed me while I painfully conducted it myself; only Eric could be worth this, I had thought grimly), I confidently sauntered into school the next morning.

It was the day before Halloween, but in a surprisingly cool move on the part of the administration, they had allowed us to wear costumes. It's true that the guidelines for the dress code basically meant that you had to dress like a **nun**, (and that you couldn't carry any fun props), but after much finagling I came up with something really, really hot.

There was also a traditional but informal gathering thrown by the seniors afterwards, at Bayou Noir. I had told Amelia that I was going to invite my mystery guy there, and since I was headed straight there after school, I needed to pull out all the stops with my costume.

When I saw Amelia in the courtyard, she waggled her eyebrows. "Hey there, Bond girl, love the trench coat and sunglasses. You look great!" Of course she knew that there was a little more, (or more accurately, a little less) to my costume than what it seemed, and I grinned in response.

"Love yours too, Ames! You can put a spell on me anytime." She was wearing regular clothing (skinny jeans, boots and a cute red, plaid top) but her hair was held back by a headband with a tiny little witch hat jauntily placed on the side, in place of something like a flower or a bow. As the bell rang, signaling the start of school, Amelia gave me a cheesy thumbs-up before we headed to our respective classes.

-------------

Throughout the day, I saw some totally bizarre and creative outfits, and a few others which I was sure would get their owners a visit to the office and a trip home to change. (Jason fell into neither of these categories; he was dressed as a football player. God bless him, I loved my brother, but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.)

The weather was crisp and cool and seasonal (for once!) and there was a touch of excitement floating through the air. I was a little nervous to put my plan into action, but ready. I wanted to convince Eric that being together was everything, or at the very least, that it would be the worst mistake of his life to let me go.

When I arrived in his class at the end of the day and noticed he wasn't there, I relaxed a little with my classmates as we all compared costumes. Lafayette actually _was_ dressed like a nun, a rather sexy one, (which had amused everyone so much that no one realized until a few weeks later that he had violated the "no dressing in drag" costume rule). Claudine was a tall, slender Tinkerbell with delicate emerald wings and a matching dress. Debbie Pelt apparently had seen "Mean Girls" a few too many times, because she was wearing a tight, slutty dress with a headband with animal ears. I even overheard her tell someone that she was "a mouse, duh."

Eventually the bell rang, but it wasn't until Eric entered the classroom a minute later that we stopped chattering. I took a moment to ogle him, and I definitely wasn't alone in my actions.

He was wearing dark jeans that weren't too tight, but also didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination. That was what first caught my attention, (as they were at my eyelevel), before I noticed his black, longsleeved dress shirt that was opened a little at the neck and tucked into those delicious Levi's...my eyes trailed down to a black leather belt (which sent my imagination running wild), and cowboy boots (ditto), and- the real kicker, which I noticed after I looked up at his face- a black cowboy hat. His dark, lean frame conjured up images of John Travolta from "Urban Cowboy," if he had been Scandinavian.

Well fuck me sideways.

He smiled at us as he removed his hat and effectively ensured another "WHAT THE FUCK?" moment when we noticed that his hair had been cut short and styled so that it was reminiscent of Don Draper's in "Mad Men," (only thankfully with much less gel). If I had thought before that Eric was the sexiest man I'd ever met, well, now I would have to say that he was the sexiest man. Ever. Period.

Hoh damn, this was going to make my plan a little more difficult.

His eyes surveyed the class and some quiet talking resumed between students as he commented on a few outfits. I stared at him, silently challenging him to look at me. And finally, finally, his guarded blue eyes met mine. At first he seemed relieved, maybe because I didn't look like a Jerry Springer contestant any more, and then his expression evolved into something else. Ooooo, I knew what that look was. I had seen "lust" on that beautiful face more times than I could count, and for once, I felt confident enough to respond publicly with a falsely saccharine smile. He coughed nervously, looking away, and grabbed some notes with which he began conducting class.

Every time I crossed or uncrossed my legs, or adjusted my belt, Eric seemed to lose his train of thought. I decided to go for broke and pulled out some Halloween candy (which I shared with Claudine) and I started sucking teasingly on a cherry lollipop. Eric gave everyone a short assignment to complete before the end of the period, and as he passed it to my row, he gave me a subtle look of warning. I responded innocently with slightly widened eyes, as if to say, "What's wrong? Something bothering you, cowboy?"

Eventually, the class ended, but my plan was only just commencing. I acted confused by the assignment and I continued to work on it as everyone else filed out, many of them whooping and hollering because of the holiday and the weekend. I was about to move out of my seat when suddenly Sam Merlotte appeared in front of me. I groaned a little internally; Sam was a nice guy, and not wholly without attraction, but I just wasn't interested and there didn't seem to be any way for me to convince him of that.

He was dressed as a dog, which I thought was appropriate, and then instantly I was a little ashamed at the bitchy (no pun intended) commentary running through my mind. I looked up at him and past his arm, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Eric was watching us intently from his desk. Interesting; maybe this could be tweaked a little to fit nicely into The Plan.

"Sookie," Sam began nervously, "I know you said you've been really busy lately, and that's why you haven't been able to hang out, but I was wondering if you would wanna go to Bayou Noir? Uh, with me?"

I pretended to ignore Eric as I stood and responded beneficently.

"Sam, that sounds lovely. Why don't you give me a few minutes to freshen up, and I'll meet you there?" I tried not to laugh outright at the ill-concealed choking noise that came from the Swedish cowpoke himself.

Sam looked a little stunned but he nodded excitedly as he said, "Sure thing. See you there!" He leaned over instinctively to kiss my cheek, and there was a loud bang behind him.

"Merlotte, I know you're new, but that kind of PDA is unacceptable here. Next time it will result in a detention," Eric practically growled as he bent to pick up the book that he had dropped on the floor. Sam's eyes widened a little and he apologized before shooting me another smile and leaving.

I turned and calmly gathered my things, but Eric definitely wasn't ready to let the subject drop.

"You are seriously going with _him_?" Eric asked me incredulously. I didn't deign to respond, but I did turn to look at him with one, primly raised eyebrow.

He tried again. "Sookie, please don't."

I answered his plea with indifference. "Well, I have this costume and everything, and I'm going anyway. I might as well enjoy it with someone who _wants_ to be with me. I don't think that's unreasonable, do you?"

He seemed at a loss for words.

I continued, injecting a hint of silky seduction into my voice, "Mr. Northman, you haven't even asked me what my costume _is_, yet..."

He eyed me warily. "I assumed you were a spy, or a British person, or...something."

Oh this was just too perfect. I strolled purposefully over to the door, shut it, locked it, pulled down the shade. Let them find us, I thought recklessly.

I turned slowly to face him and untied my belt, then began teasingly to open the buttons, one at a time. My trench coat opened slightly, revealing the smooth, tanned skin of my completely naked body. I advanced with a predatory gleam in my eye; Eric instinctively took a step back and bumped into his desk.

"I'm a flasher."

Eric just stared.

I was standing right in front of him, but (I thought amusedly) he seemed to need a little help figuring out what to do, so I reached for his large, warm hand and, brushing aside my coat, placed it on my bare breast. He was staring intently at my coat, as if he was wishing for X-ray vision, and he subconsciously began to tease my already hardened nipple. He still seemed suspended in a state of disbelief. So again I moved his hand for him, this time downwards to cup my sex, and when he felt the smooth skin there and how wet I was, something snapped.

His deep sapphire eyes bore down into mine as he regained control and purposefully slid in one long finger. I tried not to lose my mind. The Plan, The Plan, The Plan, I chanted silently. "I wanted to try something new...do you like it?" I asked coyly. The lust in his eyes spoke for him. I allowed him to pleasure me a little longer, but the moment his thumb brushed against my clit, I forced myself to abruptly disengage.

He was crestfallen, like a kid who had just been told there was no Santa Clause, as I began buttoning up my coat in a cold, calculated manner. I reached for my bag and looked him straight in the eye as I said callously, "Thanks for your opinion. I hope Sam Merlotte likes it just as much."

As I turned and stalked away, barely breaking my stride to unlock and throw open the door, I expected to feel a deep satisfaction. The Plan had gone perfectly. He would probably be chasing after me in a New York second, and baring that, at least he would know exactly what he was missing.

But I didn't feel satisfied. If anything, the huge gaping hole had somehow grown larger.

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Coming up: Ooooh, I hated to leave this one on a small cliffy, but remember, "there is no terror in a bang, only in the anticipation of it." And there will be some bang(ing) at Bayou Noir...but between who, I ain't sayin.... :O


	10. A Million Ways

A/N: I have edited and re-edited and re-re-edited, but I'll be honest- I kind of think I did a crappy job on this chapter. So reviews (good or bad) would be greatly appreciated.

In an unrelated story, it's 5:41pm and OU still sucks. Hook 'em horns!!!!

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_Eric POV_

This girl was going to be the fucking death of me. And probably in the most literal sense.

*************

_Sookie POV_

Bayou Noir wasn't actually a black swamp, but a club on the outskirts of Bon Temps that the seniors had rented for our traditional, annual Halloween Par-tay. As I drove up, still contemplating Eric's possible responses to my plan, I distractedly noticed the parking lot was packed. When I first walked inside, I paused for a moment to look around. The club was pitch black, and thumping with loud music. I recognized an oldie but a goodie blasting through the speakers (Lil' Jon & the Eastside Boyz' _Get Low_). The dance floor was illuminated only by a few flashing lights, which gave the entire place a surreal feeling. Almost everyone was dancing, and although it was a school-sponsored event and about four in the PM, the distinct scent of alcohol was definitely on the breaths of more than a few raucous individuals. (And since our football team had an "off-week," their members and fans were certainly doing their share of partaking in the imbibing.) The general feeling, in true Southern fashion, was that it was five o'clock somewhere...and if you were big enough to reach the bar, you were old enough to consume its contents.

I saw all kinds of costumes, ranging from supernatural beings (witches, ghosts, devils, etc.) to classic get-ups (pirates, animals, Disney characters, superheroes, etc.). Even a few of the teachers had dressed up and were dancing- but with each other, of course; no teacher/student hankie-pankie going on here, no siree, I thought somewhat ironically.

The mood was so festive that the students didn't seem to mind the presence of the teachers; on the contrary, it amused them to no end. My upper lip curled with distaste as I spotted Coach Quinn leaning against a far wall, sans costume, with his disgusting leer focused on a group of cheerleaders.

Just then someone else caught my eye: Pam Ravenscroft's costume was a startling deviation from her usual conservative, pastel outfits. She was dressed in a rather form-fitting, low-cut, black gown and I thought I detected some sharpened canines. With her pouty red lips, bright blonde hair, and seductive stance, she looked like the love child of Alice in Wonderland and Vampira; I was a little surprised that I had even been able to recognize her. She noticed me giving her the once-over, and smiled brightly in response, revealing perfectly white teeth and those creepy/awesome fake fangs. I responded with an uneasy smile of my own; I was experiencing an odd sense of déjà vu and, for second, those vampire fangs seemed disturbingly familiar.

I forced myself to break eye contact and I shoved my hands into my trench coat pockets, trying to look casual while actually searching intently for Eric. Eventually though, it was Sam Merlotte who found me, and I wanted to slap my hand to my forehead when I remembered my stupid, impulsive decision to agree to come here "with him." He smiled kindly, almost naively, and my annoyance was tinged with guilt. Sam was the stereotypical nice-guy who would always finish last, and I felt bad for leading him on to think that the result of this situation would be any different.

He asked me to dance, rather shyly, and I suppressed the urge to run away. Instead, I smiled tightly and consented. He maintained a large void between us, as if we were dancing in Victorian-era England, and again I was inundated with a mixture of guilt and irritation.

But my train of thought ran right off the tracks and into a steep embankment, before bursting into a big, twisted, flaming pile of wreckage when I saw a large black cowboy hat. I lowered my gaze and met Eric's eyes. They weren't flashing with unrestrained anger or jealousy...instead, they were distant with an epic, absolutely _glacial_ fury. Even from my place on the dance floor, I could read his tense, rigid body language and feel the rage radiating from his entire being.

Sam tried to gently nudge me closer to his own body, but I stubbornly held my position. I craned my neck slightly to follow Eric's movement toward..._dammit, Sam, get outta my way_...Ms. Ravenscroft.

He spoke to her briefly but agitatedly, and her cool response, whatever it might have been, seemed to relax him a little. I tried not to stare at them when they turned and considered me simultaneously. I even pulled Sam a little closer (to his delight) so that I could see them in my peripheral vision over his shoulder; I hoped I looked natural and unaware of their exchange, but inside I was a shaky mess.

I had thought (well okay, twist my arm, I had _hoped_) that maybe Eric would be dark and brooding while he was thinking of ways to get me back. Or at least jealous (okay, insanely jealous). But that frighteningly controlled anger made me think he was about to do something totally unpredictable, and I just knew it would be something I wouldn't like. My hands, which were clasped loosely around Sam's neck, tapped out an uneven rhythm on his back and I fidgeted uneasily as Eric continued to stare at me.

But in the next second, he was smiling at something Ms. Ravenscroft had said. I felt the tiniest flicker of jealousy myself. But really, there was no harm there, no cause for alarm- they were just friends, right?

At that exact moment, Eric removed his cowboy hat and valiantly held it to his chest as he bent down to kiss her lips.

I wanted to vomit.

Instead, I abruptly pulled away from Sam and blurted out, "Sam, I think you're a really great guy, but I'm sorry, I'm just getting out of a relationship and this really isn't a good time for me."

His disappointment (and obtuseness) was evident as he responded, "Sookie, why didn't you tell me this before? I don't mind giving you some time if you think-"

Trying for a gentle tone but settling for a less than gracious one, I interrupted him.

"No, Sam, it's not only that...I'm just not interested in you in a romantic way. I'm sorry for leading you on. You're a true gentleman, and I hope we can still be friends. Please forgive me?" I raised my voice indelicately over the pounding bass. I felt guilty for misleading him, but at the moment, I honestly couldn't give a damn whether or not he forgave me. I needed to get away from here as quickly as possible, before I collapsed into a big, giant emotional puddle in the middle of the floor.

He sighed heavily (and a little melodramatically, I thought contemptuously) before nodding his head.

I hugged Sam with relief. After I'd hastily extracted myself, I hardly knew what to do next. I tried my best to keep it together as I headed for the door.

Escape was the best option, I told myself weakly. After all, were there really any other ones?

I pushed through the crowd to open the club door and headed to my car. I yanked open the door, plopped myself in the seat, and slammed the door shut. I placed my hands on the wheel and stared straight ahead, but saw nothing.

My mind continuously, relentlessly, mercilessly replayed the moment when Eric had kissed Pam.

_I lost him_, I lamented, feeling utterly wretched and bewildered. _My plan was stupid, it didn't work, it only pushed him further away..._

What kind of person had I become, that I would exploit his vulnerabilities in such a malicious way, for my own personal gain? No matter how much Eric's rejection had hurt, I never should have taken such direct aim at his Achilles' heel. What the hell had happened to me?

My heart was heavy; the soul-crushing sensation extended into my arms. They dropped away from the wheel, falling to my sides as I began to weep uncontrollably. I hung my head helplessly as the tears cascaded down my cheeks; I couldn't do anything except allow them to fall.

A sharp rap on my car window startled me out of my pity-party and with great effort I forced my hands to clumsily wipe away my tears before I lowered my window.

Eric's long, lean frame was resting against the car next to me, and his hand held his cowboy hat against his side.

Those cold, glittering sapphires studied my reddened, bleary eyes before he inquired venomously, "How does it feel to be on the receiving end of that bullshit? I'm curious, as I've never inflicted it before."

Another hot tear rolled down my cheek as I realized that little scene had been conducted solely for my benefit.

"It hurts like hell."

He nodded once, stiffly.

"Meet me at my house. We have much to discuss."

***********

With great shame, I slunk into his house and timidly perched on the couch. He entered the living room in the next moment. He sat down rigidly, and turned towards me before he spoke.

"Sookie, regardless of whether or not we continue this relationship, you have to grow the fuck up."

His harsh words made me feel a pitiful shallowness and a desperate hopefulness in the same moment.

He continued in the same direct tone.

"I will _not_ indulge you, Sookie. I will _not_ play games with you, and I _cannot_ respect you if you continue to play them with me."

I remorsefully choked out an apology.

"I'm sorry, Eric, please forgive me. Sam means nothing...I was only trying to get you to notice...I just, I didn't know why..." I took a huge breath and tried to hold back the tears that threatened to burst forth, "I didn't understand why you broke up with me."

I searched his deep blue eyes, pathetically imploring and begging him to accept me.

"What did I do wrong, Eric? Please, I can fix it, I swear....just give me a chance, please, I can...I just..." I was gasping for breath over and over and over again, almost hyperventilating, "I wish...I don't understand...why am I not enough? Why...?"

I couldn't hold back my tears any longer, and they flooded my eyes as I gave into sobbing. I covered my face with my hands and my shoulders heaved with the impact of my grief.

His once flat expression became panic-stricken as he pulled me into his lap and embraced me tightly. I continued to sob against him, unable to control myself. He murmured reassuringly, stroking my hair gently as he tried to soothe me.

"Sookie, lover, it isn't your fault. You have done absolutely_ nothing_ wrong. I let you go _because_ I love you. I'm worried about you- your future, and yes, mine too, could be ruined by the discovery of our relationship. Oh, Susannah, my darling, please don't cry."

He continued to rub his large hands on my back in comforting circles until my sobs had subsided. Finally, I pulled away and tried to wipe away my tears, but Eric wouldn't allow it. Instead, his thumbs tenderly did it for me as he stared into my eyes for a long moment. He seemed to be waging a battle internally, but it was obvious which side won as he drew me to him, and leaned down to kiss me.

His lips were passionate and desperate as they melded against mine. He clung to me like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. I responded just as eagerly, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and moving instinctively to straddle him; a week without this physical contact had seemed like a century to my love-sick heart. We worked on shedding our clothing, and his normally confident hands were trembling as he tried to undo my belt. He cursed in his native language, frustrated, so I hastily untied it for him and after shrugging out of it, I threw it on the floor behind me. While his hands blissfully roamed my naked body, he murmured against my lips in between our kisses, "God...I'm an idiot, I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I love you, Sookie, oh God...please forgive me."

My body responded with the same intensity and I ground against him, but through my lust-filled haze, I knew that I had to take a stand. So eventually, and very reluctantly, I withdrew from his embrace.

Cupping his face in my hands, I grasped at some semblance of control and said seriously, "I'm sorry for how I reacted, but you can't **ever** do that again, Eric." He nodded his understanding and moved to kiss me again, but I stopped him.

"We're in this together. I love you, but what you did, Eric...it nearly destroyed me. There won't be another chance for reconciliation. This is it. The next time you get it into your head that you know what is best for me, what is best for us, and make a life-altering decision based on that idiotic high-handedness, I. Will. Leave. You. And you won't have a snowball's chance in hell of getting me back."

Again, his lips covered mine in an earnest apology. He placed one large hand on my neck and was massaging it lightly. And hoping that I had finally made my point, I felt I could freely yield to him.

It was heaven. To be in his arms, pressed against his taut frame, kissing his lips...yes, this was surely heaven. I thought vaguely that even our bodies seemed to fit together, perfectly and instinctively; like a lock and a particularly delicious, long, hard key...

At this point, I abandoned my lame analogy for some concrete action.

I ripped off more of his clothes- his shirt was gone and I giddily groped his rock-hard abs. I felt him smile against my mouth, so I made a mental note to do that more often. As I smoothly slid his belt out of the loops, I broke away from his lips and held the belt in front of his face. He raised one eyebrow at me and I playfully snapped it straight.

He growled and, with my legs still encircling him, he turned us in one quick movement so that I was underneath him. The belt fell to the floor and I squeaked a little with surprise at the sudden change in position, but his lips coerced a moan from me once they met mine again. My head was resting on a pillow at the arm of the couch, and his lean, strong masculine frame hovered over me as I ground up against his jean-clad hardness.

His mouth continued to assail mine as he unzipped his jeans. With my feet curled, I pushed his Levis further down his body, over his fantastically tight ass, past his legs, until he had been able to edge them off himself. Finally, he was entirely naked and his considerable erection was unrestrained and pressing into my bare thigh. (Not that I had ever had any doubts, but that feeling of anticipation alone was irrefutable evidence that there was indeed a God.)

I looked intensely into his eyes as he placed his cock at my wet, tight entrance and slammed into me. My head jerked back involuntarily, and I gasped as my body tried to adjust to the feel of him inside me once again. Without giving me a chance to recover, Eric pulled out completely and slammed back into me again, and repeated the motion once more. I came violently; my nails raked across his bare back and my inner muscles spasmed around his cock. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought maybe he had finished too, but he continued to pull out and thrust in deeply at a steady pace. He rubbed my clit and I came again, undulating against him frantically, while twitching in intense pleasure. Again, I thought that he was almost finished, but he continued his relentless assault on my body.

"Sookie," he growled fiercely,

"Look.

At.

Me."

He punctuated each word with a quick but deep thrust inside of me. I tried to meet his worshipful gaze, but it was almost like an out of body experience; I could tell that my eyes were wide and unfocused. I wasn't able to concentrate on anything except for the divine feeling of his huge cock pounding into me, over and over and over again.

"You.

Are.

MINE."

He repeated this mantra ardently as I moaned and gasped and writhed and became completely undone beneath him.

He pounded into me a few more times before grabbing my hips and burying his hardness inside of me. I mistakenly thought I couldn't climax again, but we came together, and I was flying, totally outside of my body. My vision was graying, my limbs weakening...

And then there was only darkness.

*********

_Eric POV_

I had never fucked anyone unconscious before. Thank God Sookie had come to (no pun intended; I was scared out of my fucking mind) almost instantly because I was about to call 911 in a blind panic...and Jesus, I didn't want to think about the possible headlines that might appear to describe this particular incident. At the very least, it would qualify me to write a very disturbing FML statement.

But Sookie had woken before I could move. She seemed a little disoriented and blinked slowly. She asked me softly what had happened, and as I tried to explain it, her eyes crinkled and she gave into genuine, albeit weak, laughter. I was still a little shaken, so I couldn't join in her amusement just yet.

I abruptly slid out of her and moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch, and her smile faded as she saw the disturbed expression in my eyes.

"Jesus, Sookie, I'm sorry. I can't believe...**fuck**, I should have been more careful with you. Are you alright?" After all the emotional bullshit we had already been through, I had to go and put her through this fucking physical trauma. The guilt weighed on me heavily and I turned away from her perplexed gaze to pull on my jeans. She pushed herself to an upright position and wrapped her arms around me, effectively stilling my movement. My body tensed as she rested her warm right cheek on my right shoulder and said, "That was _incredible_."

I spoke tentatively. "You can't mean that."

She looked up at me, chin resting on my arm, and grinned. "Well, I might not be able to walk for about a week or so, but it was definitely, _definitely_ worth it."

I let out a relieved sigh, but as I turned towards her, I felt her wince and she said unthinkingly, "Ow."

Cursing internally, I carefully maneuvered her into my arms and lifted her.

"The only thing that helps sore muscles is a nice hot bath," I said, carrying her with me as I walked towards the bathroom. Her blue-green eyes trustingly searched my own and, apparently comforted by what she found there, she contentedly leaned her head against my chest.

I knew there was more that we needed to talk about, but for the moment I was just happy to feel the girl I loved in my arms again.

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**  
Coming up: A Talk, Thanksgiving, and one doozy of a Christmas surprise. **


	11. Fools In Love

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reviews- I was seriously doubting myself, so to hear that ya'll like it was just awesome.

Also, I'm both really excited and kinda bummed that the number of people who have added this story to their "alerts" almost equals the number of reviews...please please please take a sec to review- I read each and every one and I really appreciate your comments!!!

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equal awesome Charlaine Harris.

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Sookie POV

I woke up with the sunlight streaming through the windows onto my face. It was chilly and still quite early, and after my bath last night I hadn't bothered to put on clothes, so the sun's warmth felt especially welcome. I was lying on my stomach, with half of my face smushed into the soft pillow. I lifted my head and turned it to see that Eric, (who always slept naked, I remembered gleefully), was already awake. He was lying on his side, with his face propped up in one hand. He was watching me intently.

My breath caught a little.

Under the sun's golden rays, he looked like a divine being; too beautiful to be human. His blonde hair shone, his blue eyes glimmered, and boy howdy, the muscles flexing in his arms...

On the other hand, there was the utterly unglamorous me. I was pretty sure my face had unfortunate creases from the pillow, my hair was a hot mess, and my limbs were still sore from our sexcapades on the couch last night. But all of this was forgotten when he smiled.

His fingers reached over and brushed my hair to the side. He leaned over to place a gentle kiss on my shoulder.

"Mmm, good morning to you too, " I murmured drowsily. His thumb caressed my shoulder, sending secret tingles of delight all over my body. I clutched my pillow tighter.

"I love watching you sleep. You're so unbelievably gorgeous," he whispered, grinning boyishly.

I snorted to hide my own goofy smile. "Creeper," I teased him. In a move that somewhat negated my comment, my hand snuck under the sheets and found his gracious plenty. His eyes darkened and he leaned in to give me a proper kiss.

I wanted him (geez, when didn't I?) and I was ready for him but he pulled away. I pouted, but he was adamant.

"No, Sookie. In fact, I think now might be a good time for our talk."

He disentangled himself and I reluctantly fell back against my pillow, turning my head to look at him. His actions mirrored mine, and he enclosed my hands in his.

Pillow talk, indeed.

"Eric, I think we covered the main points last night. One, you won't make decisions about _us_ by yourself. Two, I promise not to act like a...well, like a high schooler—" and here he winced slightly "—when we have a disagreement, even though that's what it took to bring you to your senses." Another grimace. "Finally, no more games, especially at school. Mmmkay, I think that about covers it," I summed up before moving to kiss him.

He scooted back and pressed a conciliatory kiss to my forehead instead. I huffed indignantly. Even when the lower half of my body was aching like I'd just done about 50,000 lunges, I wanted me some Eric lovin'. The idea of his naked body lying less than a few inches from my own naked form, and me _not_ touching it, was driving me wild. _Huh, and to think that I could have cared less about sex only a few short months ago... _

"That is, assuming that we are staying together, Sookie," Eric spoke softly, but nonetheless, I was drenched by the proverbial bucket of ice water.

He spoke quickly once he saw the fear in my eyes. "I only mean that the issue of the future still remains. We have avoided discussing it as much as possible, but if we are going to move forward, we can't any longer. Our options are just so..." he sighed, frustrated, "...limited. And Sookie, I cannot allay my fears about the possible consequences if we're discovered."

I thought for a moment.

_EUREKA!_

"What if I transfer to Ms. Ravenscroft's class? That might lessen the chances of us getting caught, and even if we were, you wouldn't technically be my teacher."

He considered it and slowly agreed. "Yes, I think you're right. And honestly, it would ease my conscience as well. It's becoming more and more difficult," his fingers coasted down my waist and came to rest lightly on my bare hip, and I shivered in response, "to be objective when I'm grading your papers."

He paused as his eyes searched mine.

"Are you sure you want to be in this relationship?"

_Gee, Eric, heck no! I only walked around school wearing nothing but a trench coat for an entire freaking day to get your attention. And gave myself a goddamn Brazilian wax. Er, sorry God._

Although tempted to roll my eyes, instead I counseled my features to remain as blank as possible. "Are you sure _you_ want this, Eric?"

He kissed my hand resolutely. "Yes. I love you, and I couldn't imagine my life without you in it."

A tiny smile escaped as I said, "Ditto."

Perhaps he would always have reservations about our relationship, at least while I was still a student. But he was looking to the more immediate future, whereas I was looking beyond that.

Maybe I was foolish to hope for so much, (ok, I definitely was) but I felt like maybe Eric was The One. He could make me crazy with jealousy and heavy with sadness, but I knew without a doubt that the humor and happiness and joy and pleasure that he had brought into my life far outweighed the negative things. It may have been foolish (ok, noticing a pattern here) to trust him with my heart again so soon after he had broken it, but love is inexplicable. And I loved him.

The idea of _not_ trying to make it work seemed so foreign and horrible that I couldn't bear to consider it.

But I also meant what I had said to Eric the night before; that he only got one more chance and if he colossally messed up again, there wouldn't be the opportunity for a third. I thought I would be strong enough to follow through, but hopefully I wouldn't be forced into a position to discover whether or not I actually was.

I didn't want to ruin the moment, and I knew that asking a guy for commitment was supposed to be the quickest way to run him off, but I couldn't help myself.

"Eric..." my thumb stroked his hand for a moment as I hesitated. He waited patiently.

"I know you're worried about this year, but have you thought about afterwards?"

His brow furrowed, so I continued.

"Like, um, if I went to college or-or didn't," I stumbled slightly, "...could you see us together then?"

*********

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Eric POV

Shit.

How could I answer that one?

If I said yes, then later one she might feel obligated to sacrifice a very important part of her future. And I had personally experienced the problems that that kind of resentment could lead to. But at least I would be telling the truth. Which was that I _had_ imagined creating a life with her, a home and even children. (Jesus, I was such a girl.)

And if I said no...Well, I would be a liar and she would be hurt.

Apparently my hesitation answered her question.

She shook her head, embarrassed, and slid out of the bed.

"Never mind, just forget I asked."

I was about to reach for her but she moved too quickly, scooping up one of my t-shirts and throwing it on. She went into the adjacent bathroom and the sounds of teeth-brushing followed. Rolling onto my back, I reached up and rubbed my forehead in consternation. Fuck.

Sookie eventually finished in the bathroom and hastily left my room without looking at me.

I flung off the covers and threw on some cotton drawstring pants. After my own haphazard grooming session (this short hair was ridiculously manageable; I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before), I went to look for her. The familiar, delicious smell of bacon wafted towards me as I headed into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted me was even more mouth-watering. Her soft blonde locks were held back in a loose ponytail, with a few strands escaping. She was wearing one of my white UT shirts, which ended just below her ass and emphasized her long, tanned legs.

When she turned around, I could see her hardened nipples poking through the thin material.

"Did you want scrambled or sunny-side up today?" she inquired distractedly, moving to the fridge.

I reached her in two strides and placed my hands against the fridge on either side of her, effectively trapping her between me and it.

"Yes," I growled, unable to stop myself. I lifted her legs and wrapped them around my waist.

She instinctively ground into my hardness and her hands clasped my neck, but she asked, confused, "Yes...ah, what?"

My hands moved to cup her face. "Yes, I think about us being together after you graduate, and even further in the future than that. I think about making a home with you. And a family."

I paused, looking for the right words.

"And it scares the hell out of me, Sookie. Not only because you're so young and I don't want you to feel pressured into anything, but also because I never thought I could feel this way...having a family wasn't even something that I considered with Vivienne."

Her eyes widened and there was the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Really?"

I caressed her cheek and bent to kiss her.

"Really."

I carried her back to the bedroom and we made love slowly, sweetly, tenderly, gently; with whispered pleas and murmured endearments. We crested simultaneously, worshipping each other's bodies and losing ourselves deep in each other's eyes. When it was all over, she seemed totally drained of energy and fell asleep again in my arms, but I couldn't do the same in hers. My thoughts were too heavy.

There was something so earnest and trusting at the essential core of her being. I only ever wanted to protect that, and protect her. And I'd be damned if I let anyone stop me from doing just that.

*******

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Sookie POV

I spent the rest of the day at Eric's.

After the past tumultuous week, it was nice to fall back into our routine. The weather was gorgeous, so after we woke up (again) and ate breakfast, we walked down to the pier and the pond that were at the back of the house. The trees were in various stages of undress; some were completely bare, with huge piles of crunchy, dead, brown leaves underneath, whereas others were still covered in orange and yellow foliage.

We sat on the bench swing and Eric, with his arm draped atop the frame and loosely around my shoulders, gently rocked us back and forth with his long legs. His left hand sought to clasp mine and for a long while we didn't speak, content to bask in the serenity of our surroundings and the feeling of each other.

My head rested against his chest and I thought about his earlier admission. More than anything else, this encouraged me to hope that we might be together in the future. I knew that things might change, our circumstances and even ourselves, but whatever happened, our relationship right now was real and valid.

And no one and nothing could _ever_ undo that, I thought fiercely, as my grip on his hand tightened ever so slightly.

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Coming up: **Next chappie is up!!! **Enjoy :D


	12. Pregnant

A/N: This one is titled "Pregnant," after a song by the Cold War Kids. My thinking is that the lyrics and tone describe Sookie's state of mind at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equal awesome Charlaine Harris.

Warning: The lemons in this chapter are of a decidedly pulpier nature than in previous chapters. Can I get a woot woot?!?!

_****_

MAJOR PIMPAGE: Check out these two fantabulous contests that are going on right now in the SVM Universe!!!

Hosted by the always effervescent duo of **youbettago **and **Kyss Ericsson:**

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Sookie POV

The next month flew by. With Ms. Ravenscroft's help, I transferred to her class, officially citing a "schedule conflict." Although I missed seeing Eric in his class every day, I could still see the potential benefits of our new arrangement were we ever caught.

(But ugh, I hated even to think of it like that. We were two consenting adults, so it didn't seem to me like there was anything wrong to "get caught" doing.)

Naturally, there was no more fooling around at the school, and although I was worried that the separation might have dimmed our ardor for each other (or at least his for me), this turned out to be a baseless concern. If anything, it only intensified our mutual desire.

Eric and I also had a standing date night every Friday. Sometimes we stayed in and watched a movie, other times we went out of town for dinner or dancing. I finally convinced him to take me to Outlaws, the honky-tonk in Shreveport. (Hey, he already had the hat and boots). I was pleasantly surprised by his natural sense of rhythm and graceful movements; he picked up the two-step in about the requisite three steps. By the end of the night, he had legions of urban cowgirls with bleached, teased hair and too-tight Daisy Dukes following him, making me rethink my choice of location for our date.

But in true Eric form, he was totally indifferent to their advances. Whenever we took a break from dancing, he kept his arm around me, either on my shoulders or at the small of my back. And despite this, women continued to approach him and asked him to dance. He gently but firmly refused them as I watched, eyebrows raised, torn between amusement and a sort of incredulous anger (at them, of course, not him).

When we got home that night, I reminded him that while I was his, he was also mine.

We had thrown ourselves on the bed, both of us completely naked after ripping, peeling, and dropping our clothes on the floor during our messy journey there.

After a short struggle for dominance, I managed to end up on top, straddling him tightly with my thighs and pressing down on his broad shoulders with my hands. Obviously, I was nowhere near as strong as Eric and he had to allow me to win, but it was still a fun and thrilling way to gauge the mood for the evening.

His eyes darkened as I began to lower myself onto him. One of my hands moved to his chest and my fingers pinched his nipple. My nails scraped his chest lightly and he moaned and shuddered beneath me.

My hair cascaded in front of my face as I lowered my lips to bite the other nipple playfully. He groaned and, pushing my hair to the side, he brought my lips to his.

Suddenly he flipped me onto my back and, pulling my legs around his waist, plunged into me with his long, thick cock. I gasped and fisted the crumpled sheets beneath me. No matter how many times we were together, that first sensation was always so intense.

I expected him to pull out and thrust back in, but he surprised me by pressing himself closer against me. _Oh God, he was just...so...BIG...ugghhhh...GOD, why weren't we moving?_ I ground against him as much as I could, desperately seeking friction, and my hands moved to clutch his shoulders. I raked my nails none-too-gently down his back, silently pleading for him to continue his pillaging of me, but he murmured, "Just a sec..."

He was twisted towards the nightstand and I heard him rummaging for something in there.

Finally he pulled out something that clinked and glimmered in the faint moonlight of the otherwise dark bedroom.

Handcuffs.

Oh.

**OH.**

I looked up at him and bit my lower lip nervously, but the most gloriously wicked images were running through my mind.

They dangled from his finger as he considered me seriously.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." I answered without hesitation, almost even before he had finished his question.

He rolled us so that I was on top again. And he offered me the handcuffs.

I sat up and clicked one cuff open, fascinated with how the cold metal felt on my hot skin. But as I moved to close it around my wrist, Eric gently pulled it away from me.

I was confused until he clicked it around his own wrist. My eyes widened and I gaped at him for a second.

He smirked back at me.

"We don't _have_ to play this way; I would be more than happy to be the one doing the work..." his voice trailed off as I eagerly raised myself up off his cock and inched up his torso with my legs still on either side of him. I slid the other cuff through one of the middle bedposts and opened it. He voluntarily raised his other hand and I closed the cuff around his wrist.

I inched back to my original place and slowly descended onto his cock with no small measure of satisfaction.

What a wonderful sight it was to behold.

My large, muscular, and normally very capable (nay, _skilled_) Norseman, rendered essentially helpless and at my mercy; both hands locked up above his head.

Eric, who had been enthusiastic up until this point, began to regard me a little suspiciously. Too late, I thought giddily. I nearly giggled, being so inundated with a sudden rush of lust and power, but I suppressed it just in time.

I lifted myself off of him again and ignored my pesky instinct, which was to impale myself back onto his hardness and ride him into sweet oblivion. Without looking at him or giving him any sign of reassurance, I climbed off of the bed and sashayed out of the room. I heard him clear his throat and, still not looking at him, I raised my index finger to indicate I'd be right back.

Thinking quickly, I grabbed some things from the kitchen and headed back.

His eyes were still on the doorway as I entered the room.

I considered him scientifically for a moment, as if deciding where to start. Giving him a wide grin, I reached for an ice cube out of my baggie, which I dropped on the floor before climbing back onto the bed.

I straddled one of his legs and he groaned, feeling my wet heat rubbing against him. I took his huge cock into my hand and, hard as stone, it strained against my palm. I stared directly into his eyes while I licked the tip of the ice cube. Beginning at his belly button, I trailed the ice down his body and pressed it lightly against his cock. His hips thrust upward uncontrollably at the almost unbearably cold sensation, and he let out a strangled moan.

I continued to trail the ice down the underside of his thick staff, and his hips bucked up and down again but he didn't speak. He only made barely suppressed and intermittent groans.

So I kept rubbing the ice in small circles against his velvety smooth skin, until finally his eyes, dark and drowning in desire met mine and he begged hoarsely, "Oh God, Sookie, _please_."

I threw the ice to the ground and my hot, wet mouth descended on his cock. I heard the handcuffs rattle as Eric instinctively tried to move his hands to grab me, and he breathed, "Yessss, oh God, ugh, yesss..."

My mouth sucked and my hand stroked him as Eric jerked against me. I felt him tensing but before he could find his release, I removed myself completely. He whimpered, actually _whimpered_, and his head fell back against the pillow. He was sweating and panting and I felt a perverse sense of pride that I, a little Southern gal, could bring my Swedish sex god to his knees, or his back, as the case may be.

"Undo the cuffs," he said flatly, still trying to regulate his breathing.

I laughed. "But baby, this was just getting good..."

He lifted his head and directed at me the most chillingly commanding look I'd ever seen. It basically said, "Sookie Stackhouse, you've been a very bad girl and you need to be punished. The only thing you can do now is help me determine the severity of that punishment."

I bit my lower lip and shook my head petulantly.

"No." My response to his unspoken threat hung in the air for a moment.

His dark look was transformed into something truly evil (and deliciously seductive) as he smiled wickedly. I climbed off the bed and slowly backed away as Eric smoothly manipulated the handcuffs open.

My eyes widened.

_Oh shit_.

"Um, so you could have undone those at any time, huh?" I squeaked out.

He growled and advanced towards me.

I inched towards the door and then broke into a run. Eric chased after me and I laughed as he stubbed his toe on the corner table and let a curse fly in his native tongue.

"That's right, laugh now, while you still have the chance," he called after me in a mock-threatening voice. _Oooh, that sounded promising_, I thought gleefully.

I made it as far as the living room before he caught up to me. I put up a feeble excuse for a fight before allowing him to throw me in a fireman's carry over his shoulder as he stomped back to the bedroom. I struggled half-heartedly in that upside down position, pretending to fight him while really angling for a better look at his fan-fucking-tastic backside. I got a swift smack on the ass for my trouble.

"How dare you, sir," I said, trembling from an odd mix of lust and laughter.

He threw me onto the bed and quicker than a flash, I was in the handcuffs which were interlocked against the bedpost.

_Okay, no problem, all I had to do was figure out how to get out of them. He just did it, so it couldn't be too hard..._

His dark eyes followed my movement and I was reminded of a jungle cat observing its prey before pouncing and devouring it.

"I picked the lock with a hairpin. Which you don't have," he said gruffly, confirming my fears...and anticipations.

I gulped and finally stopped struggling.

"You'll never get away with this, you- you- _cad_!" I threatened melodramatically.

He smirked and reached for the ice.

"That's what I'm counting on."

What occurred next was both exquisitely torturous and insanely pleasurable. He rubbed ice on all of the sensitive parts of my body, beginning with my lips, then my nipples, then trailed it down my stomach, as his lips followed and kissed and sucked my tenderly chilled skin.

I mindlessly thrust up at his body, any part that I could come into contact with, but he ignored me. I was wetter than I'd ever been in my entire existence. I needed him inside of me, but when I managed to request this semi-coherently, he still ignored me.

Finally, when I thought I really couldn't take it any longer, he moved down to my drenched pussy. He slipped the ice cube in and I writhed against it and one fantastically long finger. He added another finger and I humped uncontrollably against them, recklessly seeking my release, before he removed both of them.

I moaned in frustration, unconsciously yanking against the cuffs as I tried to move my hands to force him to touch me.

He watched me struggle for a moment, but he didn't seem amused like I had expected.

Finally, in a low, authoritative rumble, he spoke.

"Relax, Sookie, relax. Listen to me, trust me, _yield_ to me, and I'll give you whatever you want."

His words permeated my lust-filled brain and I slumped back against my pillow.

"Mmmm, Eric, please, mmm, need you..." I begged him incoherently.

He seemed pleased by my response and he lowered his head. His warm tongue licked up both sides of my slit before it mercifully delved into me. The coolness of the ice mixed with the heat of his mouth and drove me absolutely wild. I bucked uncontrollably against him. He held my hips down as his tongue continued to plunge in and out me, and when his fingers moved to rub circles on my swollen nub, the pressure inside of me exploded and I came, keening and wailing loudly. My hands wrenched ineffectually against the handcuffs.

I thought he would stop, but he kept at it and before long, I was cresting on the wave of another powerful orgasm. When I came back down, I was panting heavily and feeling like a sweaty, boneless mass. He moved up my body to kiss me and I responded eagerly, still wanting him, always wanting him.

I could taste myself on his lips and it spurred me to action. I clanked the handcuffs against the post repeatedly, indicating that I wanted to be released.

Without breaking our kiss, he unlocked them. They fell behind the headboard and I was free to wrap my arms around him. I could feel his hardness pressing against my leg. I had just come twice, but already I was desperate for him again. It was almost pathetic, really, but Eric seemed to think otherwise as I wriggled against him purposefully.

His body covered mine and in one smooth stroke he entered me. I overcame the initial shock and we quickly fell into a rhythm as our hips slammed against each other.

Always before he had been the talker, but tonight was different.

"Er...ric...so...UGH...good...so...UGH...big...yes, yes, yes!!!!" I cried out in time to our thrusts.

He paused long enough to move my legs from his waist to his shoulders and I moaned unintelligibly as I felt the deeper angle of penetration.

We fucked for an eternity before he slid his long fingers between us and rubbed my clit. My hands had a death grip on the sheets and I screamed his name as I came, while my body jerked and whipped around like an electric livewire.

He roared my name as he buried himself inside of me and found his heated release. We humped weakly and erratically at each other for a moment afterwards, until Eric's arms gave out and he collapsed on top of me. My legs slid off of his shoulders and back against the bed. My heart was pounding wildly but, in contrast, my limbs felt gelatinous and immovable.

I felt him soften and pull out of me before he fell back onto his own pillow.

Happy and full and sated, I rolled towards him and slung my leg over one of his. "Mmmm, love you," I murmured. He kissed the top of my head, and I promptly fell asleep, not caring that we were both sweaty and messy and tangled up in each other.

____________

I had invited Eric to my house for Thanksgiving after relating his situation to Gran and appealing to her innate Southern hospitality. (It was so easy that I felt mighty guilty afterwards. "Your teacher's all alone here while the rest of his family's in _Sweden_? Well, honey, of _course_ you need to invite him over!")

In Bon Temps, it wasn't unusual to invite a lot of members of the community to Thanksgiving dinner; in fact, so many people were together on the holiday that I would say there were probably only about twenty dinners or so in the entire town. Many churches also held their own potluck suppers, but Gran's tradition was a Thanksgiving meal at her house.

However, Eric's response to my invitation hadn't been what I'd hoped or expected. He politely declined, and when I pressed him for an explanation (because I really did want him to meet Gran), he only mentioned something about having to go out of town. Lately he had been distracted and a little distant, but I hadn't pushed him to open up about it. I figured that he would in his own time.

I was a little worried, though, when he finally told me where he was going.

We were swinging on the bench by the pond when he abruptly said, "I have to drive to Austin next week, during the holiday."

My instincts told me to tread lightly, even though I was dying to ask if this had something to do with his ex-wife.

I settled for a simple, "Okay."

He wouldn't look me in the eye, but instead continued to gaze out at the scenery. His grip on my shoulder tightened a little.

"It's about Vivienne's alimony. And a few other legal matters from the divorce that should be cleared up pretty quickly. It's nothing to be worried about," he babbled a little.

A twinge of fear radiated through my chest.

"Right."

We didn't speak about it again until the day he left. After school ended, I went to his house to say good-bye and wish him a safe trip. It was the longest we would be apart since we'd started seeing each other.

I was sitting in the kitchen and drinking coffee while he packed a few last minute items.

He still seemed distant and distracted, so I rose and cupped his face in my hands.

"Hey, baby, come here," I said gently, and moved in to kiss him.

His large hands moved to cover mine and he removed them from his face before taking a step back.

Shocked, I hastily yanked my hands out of his grasp and bumped into the table. I tried to steady myself, but I was totally thrown by his sudden rejection.

He looked at me regretfully. "I'm sorry, Sookie, it's just that this trip and all this...this _shit_ is really stressing me out. I promise once I get back that everything will be fine. I'm sorry," his eyes finally connected with mine and he kissed my cheek before walking out of the kitchen.

As I drove home, I tried to ignore my doubts and told myself to trust Eric. He trusted me, so I should trust him. He was always reserved like this when it came to his ex-wife; I just hoped it wouldn't drive a wedge between us like it had before.

It was difficult to feel anything other than melancholy while he was gone. I went through the motions of the holiday and even worked half-heartedly on some college applications, but always, always, Eric was at the forefront of my mind.

I knew he was getting back into town on Sunday night, but I resisted the clingy impulse to drive over and surprise him. He'd probably had a long trip; it would be better to wait until later in the week when we could spend more quality time together.

Finally, I saw him the following Monday at school as I walked toward Ms. Ravenscroft's class.

I was shocked by his appearance.

His clothes were wrinkled, he had a few days worth of stubble on his chin, and there were dark circles under his unusually dull eyes.

He was sitting at his desk and hadn't noticed me. (Truthfully, he didn't seem to be noticing much of anything). I suppressed the impulse to approach him but decided that I was definitely going over to his house later. His appearance worried me, but I was also a little peeved that he hadn't called me, not even once, over the break. _Please, God_, I prayed,_ don't let there be a problem with their divorce_.

Around seven o'clock, I screwed my courage to the sticking place and drove to Eric's house.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed an unfamiliar car parked there, which made me hesitate briefly. But surely, it couldn't be...

Taking a few deep breaths, I calmed myself before walking up to the front door. Although normally I would have let myself in, I knocked this time. My curiosity was burning me alive and at that point, I couldn't decide what to hope for or think.

My heart collapsed as the door swung open and I saw Vivienne standing there. She was wearing a blousy dress with a basketball tucked underneath.

And in the next moment it took every ounce of strength I had to keep my legs from collapsing underneath me.

_Sookie, you idiot_, I thought wretchedly.

_She's pregnant_.

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Coming up: an Eric POV...what the HELL is going on??? It's not what you think...or maybe it's exactly what you think :(

AND: Don't forget to check out those awesome contests!!!!


	13. Breakeven

A/N: THANK YOU for all the reviews :D 'specially to those who have been reviewing all the way thru, and first-timers!! And "Amy" who recognized the BtVS nod; it is fo' sho' one of my favorite shows and inspires me a lot as I write.

and OH MY GOSH ya'll, I am SO sorry it took so long to update; I am seriously appalled by my ridiculous procrastination, but my classes are done for the semester and I am definitely devoting a crapload of time to this story over the next month...

That being said, the angst is going to last a little longer...all I can ask is that ya'll trust me. Also, I've tried to explain the timeline a little better; there's a v literal one at the end of the chapter, just in case. I love ya'll and I hope ya'll are still reading :D

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equal awesome Charlaine Harris.

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Sookie POV_

I continued to gape at Vivienne, not even caring how I might have looked. She sneered at me and called over her statuesque shoulder, "Eric, your _whore_ is here."

My jaw snapped shut resolutely. I would not cry. And I would not curse at a pregnant lady. My gran had raised me to act better than that. I **was** better than that.

Vivienne gave me one last scornful look before turning around and gliding away. _Couldn't she at least waddle properly, like a pregnant woman is supposed to??_ I asked myself a little desperately. I didn't want to go inside of Eric's home with her there, so I waited for him to come to the door.

Finally, he was standing in front of me, but his eyes, usually so bright and vivacious, were now lackluster orbs, and he refused to meet my distressed, confused expression. His head was hung low, his posture stooped, and I was torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to slap him. I settled for the former.

I threw myself against him. My arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed. My head was pressed against his chest as I inhaled deeply. It was such a relief when his own arms fell around me and returned my embrace. For a bittersweet moment, it was just Eric and I, and the soft nighttime chattering of the crickets.

He pulled away, and looked down at me.

"Can we talk down at the pond?"

I nodded somberly and he led the way.

Once we had settled on our bench, facing each other, Eric took my hands in his and looked at me. He seemed so much older than his twenty-five years; he gave the impression of carrying the weight of the world, and it made me ache for him.

"When I went to Austin, originally it was because Vivienne was disputing the amount of alimony with which I was providing her. She wanted more and claimed to have a valid reason to support her request."

He paused and gripped my hands tighter.

"You have to believe me: I had _no idea_ that she was pregnant...but I did feel like something wasn't quite right about the situation. When we ran into her in late September, she was already four months along but not showing." He broke off, and squeezed his large hands, tightening them around mine them like he was afraid I might flee at the slightest provocation.

"...which is why now, two months later, her pregnancy is so evident. The man she was with that night, Alcide, was led, for a substantial amount of time, to believe that it was his child. But they have only been together for three months, and obviously the math didn't add up."

An unfamiliar look crossed his face, and it took me a moment to realize that it was one of uncertainty.

"I don't know if this baby is mine, Sookie. And I have no idea how to handle this situation."

I swallowed my disappointment (and hope? or expectation?) as he continued.

"It's true that Vivienne and I are legally divorced, and due to her numerous infidelities, there is a great chance that I am not the father of this child."

An irrational urge to giggle hysterically rose in my throat but I quashed it; the whole thing was like a bad episode of _Maury_ or _Jerry Springer_. Instead I restrained myself and cautiously ventured to speak.

"I don't understand why she's _here_, then, Eric...in your house?"

He looked at me for a long moment before responding.

"Because if this _is_ my child...Sookie, I can't just abandon it. I can't just abandon her."

I couldn't help it. I let out a scornful laugh. His posture quickly became defensive and his expression grew frosty.

"Eric, she _lied_ to you and _cheated _on you, and you're...what? Just going to welcome her with open arms?" I spat out angrily.

I withdrew from his hands and his embrace, as hot tears brimmed in my eyes. My hands gestured wildly as I struggled internally to hang on to some semblance of self-control.

"Don't shut me out! You don't get to do that again! I've been here with you every step of the way, trying to understand and be supportive; how can you throw that away like its _nothing_?"

He rose off the bench and walked towards the edge of the pier, with his back to me, as I followed him and continued a little desperately.

"Please don't do this to yourself. You know how it's going to end up, Eric."

He turned and looked at me with pure anguish in his eyes. His voice cracked as he admitted, "I'm sorry, Sookie, if there's even the remote chance this could be my child, I have to take responsibility for it."

I replied earnestly, "And you should! But that doesn't mean you have to be with _her_, Eric!"

He snapped at me in frustration. "So I should raise my child in a broken home? Or better yet, you're going to drop everything and help me raise a baby?" He barked out a short, bitter laugh and I reeled, feeling like I had been slapped.

Hot tears pooled in my eyes and finally spilled onto my cheeks. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, I would do anything for you. But apparently you don't feel the same way about me."

Instead of showing remorse like I had expected, Eric was furious. The only other time I had seen such a reaction was when Quinn had tried to take advantage of me.

He let out a barrage of insults, beginning with, "For fuck's sake, don't cry, you know I can't deal with that shit, Sookie."

He cupped my shoulders roughly and spoke even more harshly.

"You are just a girl and this is not a game. Why don't you understand? Our futures and an innocent child's future are at stake. You have to stop indulging these ridiculous fantasies of us playing house. Life isn't a fucking picnic; being a parent is a real responsibility and commitment. You are simply too young to comprehend all that it entails."

I saw red; literally, small red dots flashed in front of my eyes. I pushed him away from me with a surprising amount of force, and he stumbled backwards.

"You...you....you _bastard_," I sobbed angrily. "How dare you...that **I'm** an idiot? That **I'm** ridiculous?" I babbled for a moment until I grasped maliciously at this little gem of a sentiment:

"I'm enough of an adult for you to _fuck me _like one," I spat out viciously, and judging from Eric's heavy, guilty look, I knew I had hit my mark, low as it was. But I was hurting so badly, and doubting him and everything I had been so sure of, _and maybe he was right that I am too idealistic and immature...maybe I'm __**not**__ good enough..._

And it always, always, always came back to that.

I felt worthless and used and angry and betrayed and a whole mess of emotions that I had rarely experienced before, and never at the same time, except for when Bill had...I couldn't finish the thought.

In my confusion and unhappiness, one thing suddenly seemed clear. I had reached my capacity for understanding that evening, so I gave into my most base instincts.

I fled.

He called after me, once, twice, three times. First _Sookie_, then _Susannah_, even _lover_, as he asked me to return. But it was too late. My faith in him was broken.

I was broken.

******

_Eric POV_

The nightmare began when I first saw Vivienne at the courthouse. As she walked towards me with her lawyer, and I realized that she was pregnant, I felt like I might throw up. (At the time, the irony was totally lost on me.) She was obviously pretty far along; I wondered how I hadn't noticed it before when we ran into them outside of the restaurant.

With minimal prompting from her lawyer, the she-devil offered the entire story inside the mediation room. It was unbelievable how proud and arrogant she still was, even though she was in such a shameful situation. Not only did she not know who the father was, but her fiancée had dumped her after realizing that she had lied about his potential paternity. So here she was, essentially penniless, begging for more money from the ex-husband she had cheated on.

Not that you would have known this by the distant, haughty expression on her icy features.

My lawyer advised me not to give her a dime until a DNA test could be taken. And I was goddamn tempted to listen to him. But when I thought of the child...that it might be _my_ child...Vivienne was a piss-poor excuse for a human being; the idea of her being a mother was downright laughable.

Instead, I rashly offered to let her to live with me until the baby was born and the paternity was determined. (Some kind of test could be taken before the baby was born, an amnio-something-or-other, but it carried potential complications. If it was my baby, it would be a terribly selfish and truly unthinkable to put him or her at risk for my own personal benefit.)

Providing for Vivienne was the only way I could ease my own conscience; but from the moment she had entered the house and criticized the decor, I began to regret my decision.

Arrangements had been constructed so quickly and had made me so busy that I had neglected the one person who had given my life significance in the past few months. I didn't even try to think about how to explain. There was not a single aspect of these events that made sense to me; how could they make sense to her?

I caught a glimpse of Sookie once or twice at school, but I'll admit that the idea of telling her that my entire world was upside down was not an appealing one. I felt trapped in a soap opera, and not a good one, at that. (A teacher, who is having a relationship with his student, finds out his unfaithful ex-wife is pregnant? It was wrong on so many levels.)

Vivienne continued to grate on my nerves every second I was home; she was relentlessly demanding and critical. She caused me to question my own sanity repeatedly as I frustratedly wondered how I could have ever married such a monster, and furthermore, allowed it to take advantage of me after initially abusing my loyalty in such a cruel way.

I was absolutely miserable; but one very large part of me thought that I completely deserved it, as a sort of punishment for what I was about to put Sookie through.

When Vivienne opened the door that night, I completely tuned out whatever she said to Sookie because I was so conflicted at seeing her. This was not how I had wanted Sookie to find out, and I still had no idea what to say to her or how she might react.

But God, she was so incredibly beautiful and pure and kind, standing there under the bright porch light like my own personal savior. Her flaxen locks shone and, even in a simple grey cardigan and jeans, she radiated elegance. She seemed to possess a distinctly ethereal quality despite her shocked, hurt expression; underneath her concern and confusion existed an assuredness and a faith that things would work out like they should.

She was the essence of innocence. She was breathtaking.

And I was going to ruin her.

Nothing Vivienne had done or could do to me was worse than being forced to acknowledge that fact. I was so choked with emotion and disgusted with myself that I couldn't look her in the eye.

And when she hugged me with hardly a moment's hesitation, I felt a level of self-loathing and hatred so fierce that I almost turned to Vivienne and yelled for her to get the fuck out. Instead, I inhaled the sweet, soft scent of my Sookie. _She is still mine_, I thought irrationally and hopefully, _she is still mine_.

But when we talked down at the pond, I only made things worse. I was still unsure that I was doing the right thing with Vivienne, and seeing Sookie, being near her again, weakened my resolve. It made me furious with myself and with the hopeless situation I found myself in, and like a total asshole, I redirected my fury towards her.

When Sookie offered to give up everything for me, I knew that she was serious and something inside of me just...snapped. She was too good to be with someone like me; she should **never** have to compromise her bright future for someone so wholly undeserving as myself.

The worst part was that I had no doubt that Sookie would have sacrificed her future for me, and moreover that she probably wouldn't have considered a sacrifice, because she was that kind of person.

And selfishly, I wanted to accept her offer because I am another kind of person.

So I said things, horrible things, that I didn't mean and that weren't true, because I was furious with myself and unable to express it in any other way than my misguided, pathetic, and cruel comments to her. It was almost ironic that **I** had accused **her** of being immature.

Although her words disturbed me greatly, she had been absolutely correct in implying that I had treated her like an adult before, and that my accusations were completely irrational.

I cursed my temper, cursed Vivienne, cursed my inability to tell Sookie everything that was truly important. Like that I was terrified of being a father, and afraid of losing her, and more grateful to her than she could ever know for showing me that a pure, good love could exist.

In less than a week, I had foolishly thrown away happiness with both hands. And to complete my torture, I would still see Sookie every single day at school before having to return to Vivienne every afternoon.

If I had tried, I could not have invented a worse punishment. And yet I deserved every moment of it.

The only redeeming thing I had done, and I mean _only_, was to release Sookie from any obligation to me. If this unhappy tie with Vivienne was going to exist for a long, long time, at least Sookie was no longer implicated.

_She is resilient. She will move on and make someone else, who was worthy of her, a very happy man,_ I thought sadly.

**************

_  
Sookie POV_

I didn't feel like I had when Eric had broken up with me that first time. I didn't feel like I had when Bill had left me.

It was odd but I felt...nothing.

I was so entirely removed from myself that if I _had_ been capable of feeling something, I might have been frightened by how numb I actually was.

I drove home, coasting on instinct, not registering the people who I had known my entire life waving at me as I passed the drugstore and Main Street. I parked in the driveway and floated into my grandmother's house. Like a ghost, I glided silently up the stairs and into my room. I closed the door softly behind me and lay supine on my bed. I stared up at the ceiling until the darkness outside yielded to a dusty sunrise.

And still I felt nothing.

I tried so very hard not to think. Because I knew that the second, the very **second** that I thought about it, the numbness would succumb to pain. And it would not be the familiar pain of a deep sadness that I might eventually be able to overcome, but instead the utter anguish of a raw, gushing wound that could never be healed, that would poison my entire being.

My alarm rang and I sat up and pressed the button down to silence it. It was Tuesday morning and I would have to see Eric at school for the rest of the week. And the semester. And the school year.

_Lord, please give me strength_, I prayed wearily.

******

Timeline: Eric discovered Viv's infidelity in late June and by some miraculous event, they're divorced by early August. School started; Sookie and Eric went on their first official date in late September/early October. This episode occurred around Thanksgiving, in the last week of November.

Viv was "knocked up" in early June, and was pregnant through then and July, August, September, October, November. She was about four months along when Eric and Sookie saw her, but the pregnancy didn't become obvious until a full two months later.

Er, I've never been pregnant so please feel free to let me know if this explanation is just beyond ridiculous :)

********

Coming up: WTF!!???!!!!! BILL IS BACK?!?!!!??!!! WHY GOD WHY???? (Are you on crack, Messa?)

No, I'm not, but Sookie might be a little OOC.......I've just got to write what I know, which is that heartbroken young girls make very bad mistakes sometimes.


	14. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

A/N: Oh yikes, three months? That's procrastination at its finest (or worst, really), even by my v lax standards....er, is anyone out there still reading this? .....I hope so!!! :D Unfortunately, more angst ahead in this chapter. Fortunately, I'm planning on wrapping this story up within the next five chappies.....and of course it will have a satisfactory ending. ***clumsily dodges questions about the meaning of "satisfactory" vs. "happy"***

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equal awesome Charlaine Harris.

____________

_Sookie POV_

Somehow I made through the day at school, and then the week. I saw Eric briefly, only twice, and both times I had to keep myself from trying to catch his eye.

Instead, I forced myself to close my eyes without really ever sleeping, forced myself to chew the tasteless food I shoved into my mouth, forced myself to memorize notes and hold empty conversations. Amelia chattered to me about her new boyfriend, (Bob was out; junior Tray Dawson, from the wrestling team, was in). Jason tried joking with me at the dinner table the night before their big playoff game. Ms. Ravenscroft subtly, but with noticeable concern, held me after class on Tuesday, but I distantly informed her that I was fine, just fine.

The only person I couldn't avoid, maybe because subconsciously, I hadn't wanted to, was my Gran. She watched me cautiously throughout the week but never asked how I was doing. I think it was because she knew that I wasn't fine, just fine, and Gran wasn't a person who would waste time or words or effort. So when I arrived home on Friday afternoon, Gran was waiting with a fresh batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies and glass of ice cold milk. I sat down, and as the delicious smell wafted under my nose, it was like a spell was broken. I looked up at her and my eyes welled with tears.

I gasped out, "Oh, Gran..." before totally losing control. She moved to hug me; my arms encircled her soft, fragile waist and I buried my head in her side. As I sobbed, she stroked my hair and made soothing, maternal sounds. Finally, as my tears subsided, I pulled away and reached for a napkin to blow my nose.

Gran sat in the chair next to me. "It's a boy, isn't it?"

A tiny laugh escaped and almost instantly turned into a sob.

Gran surreptitiously slid the cookie plate towards me so I grabbed one and stuffed it in my mouth. The chocolate and sugar were the first things my taste buds had acknowledge in a week, and they tasted _good_. I concentrated on that instead of the sick feeling buried deep in my chest.

"Sookie, you are such a wonderful young lady, and I am so proud of your kind nature and generous spirit. But I did not raise you to be deceitful or manipulative, even indirectly, and I know that you have been hiding something these past few months. I respect your privacy, partly because I know that you're incredibly mature for someone so young. But when I see that this secret is hurting you, that's when I, as your grandmother, have to be nosy. Honey, tell me everything. I want...no, I need to know everything. And then we'll see what we can do to fix it."

So, heartsick and hopeless, I munched away on those cookies and confided in my grandmother. The only other person who knew about us, to a degree of relative certainty, was Ms. Ravenscroft, and that had only been up until the episode with Coach Quinn. She knew nothing except what Eric had told her about his ex-wife, if indeed he had told her anything. But with my grandmother, my narrations could be as biased as I wanted, and I held nothing back (except for details about our intimacy, of course, because _hello,_ its still my grandmother).

It was akin to riding a rollercoaster, albeit a therapeutic one; I felt happy when I thought of the beginning, a sense of dread when I related the middle, and a deflated exhaustion when I described the latest events.

Gran took it all in, with surprisingly little emotion. Many parents or guardians would have flown off the handle at the first mention of their daughter engaging in a relationship with her high school teacher, and rightly so. But I also did my best to impress upon her the sense that he never took advantage of me or forced me into anything...and that for the most part, the opposite was true, that _**I**_ had been the one who was desperate to continue our relationship at whatever cost, mindless of whatever terrible consequences.

Finally, I finished my story and about a baker's dozen of cookies.

Gran took both of my hands in hers and very seriously and thoughtfully looked at me.

"I want you to listen to me, Susannah Stackhouse, and do exactly as I say."

I leaned forward eagerly, anticipating some kind of magical advice that would have Eric rushing back into my arms and away from the evil ex.

"Let him go."

I fell back against my chair, disappointed, as Gran continued in a gentle yet firm voice.

"It's not so much about age, or even about you two being in completely different places in life. It's that he may be starting a family with this woman, whether or not you want to acknowledge it, and you absolutely cannot get in the way of that. If there's even a chance they can work it out, for the sake of that _child_, they have to try. I have never met this man, and quite honestly, after hearing how he's treated you, I don't think I want to. But I can agree with him on this point: you have a bright future, and his situation is too complicated for you to be involved in."

I opened my mouth to object, but Gran cut me off. "Sookie, do you trust my judgment? Do you trust me, hon?"

I sighed but didn't answer. She raised her eyebrows, waiting until I nodded reluctantly.

"I know it'll be almost impossible at times to go on. I believe that you are old enough to appreciate what true love is, and when you lose that person..." her voice faded as her eyes seemed to wander far away for a long moment. And then they snapped back to mine, filled again with a strong sense of purpose and clarity.

"It feels like the end of the world, but it isn't. Time and distance will help you realize that. I want you to be happy, and it doesn't seem like this, this...Eric...possesses the ability to make you so, for many, many reasons."

She paused. "I want you to be happy, Sookie. That's all I've ever wanted for you and Jason."

I contemplated her advice for a moment, but couldn't give a definitive response.

"You don't have to promise anything at the moment, or even agree. Just think about it, honey." And with that she patted the top of my hand gently and left me alone with the cookies.

I grabbed another one, stuffed it into my mouth, and stared at my half-empty glass of milk. _That's odd_, I thought randomly, _because before this week, I probably would have described it as half-full._

Maybe Gran was right.

Maybe it was time to let go.

* * *

That night, I drove two hours south with Amelia and Tray to cheer Jason and the Eagles (our football team, not the band, obviously) to victory in their first playoff game. At first, I hadn't wanted to go, but Amelia refused to take no for an answer, and even Gran was slightly pushier than normal when it came to my social life.

So I begrudgingly accepted. As the trip progressed, I realized how much I had been missing of my senior year. I had skipped the football games and so many other events to be with Eric on the weekends. A tiny part of my brain suggested that Gran's way of thinking may have had some merit.

Amelia and Tray were also fantastically amusing traveling companions. When they weren't arguing over the radio stations (Ames wanted alternative rock, Tray wanted country, but ultimately Sookie the Driver wanted, and got, the pop music station and Ke$ha), they were arguing over everything else. I thought for certain that they wouldn't last as a couple for the game, or even the car-ride, but as we parked and Tray jumped out to grab Amelia's door, she leaned over and whispered, with her face-flushed from all their arguing, that she thought she was in love.

I shook my head ruefully, but didn't dream of resenting her happiness. She was my best friend, and no matter how disappointed by love I had been, she deserved every second of joy and excitement.

After the game, and the trip back, I was ready to crash. I wasn't happy but it was definitely a relief to be distracted, even if only for a few brief hours.

It was a little past midnight when I pulled up to the house. I was still distracted by the game, replaying and storing Jason's victorious moments as starting quarterback in my head so I could tell Gran all about it the next morning. It didn't strike me as odd that the living room lights were still on, but it should have. Gran was consistent in her routine; early to bed and early to rise.

I let myself in through the back, walking through the kitchen and setting down my stuff on the table before becoming aware of the living room lights being on.

I called out, "Gran? We won! Jason was amazing; I wish you could have seen it!!!"

I walked into the living room and the first thing I registered was Gran lying on the sofa. She was in her dressing gown, with a book in her lap. Her head was tilted back slightly, and her eyes were wide open, staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling.

I stopped short. My brain was working furiously to process what I was seeing.

"Gran?"

"Gran?"

"Granny?"

My voice seemed small and far away.

I tried saying her name again, but my voice was even smaller this time. It was almost like it was floating away, a balloon without a string.

I rushed over and started CPR. After a moment or so, she miraculously came to. I called an ambulance and gave her aspirin while we waited together. On the way to the hospital, she thanked me weakly but profusely, saying that I had saved her life.

I blinked.

I hadn't started CPR.

She hadn't come to.

And she wasn't going to thank me. Or talk, ever again. I reached out and touched her cheek.

Gran was cold. She was dead.

* * *

Gran was buried on a bright, sunny, cold December day. Her tombstone read:

Adele Joann Stackhouse

Beloved Wife, Mother, Grandmother

1932-2009

It was the largest funeral Bon Temps had ever witnessed. Our church was overflowing with people. They offered their condolences and I automatically accepted them. Jason was stoic and unaffected throughout the service, but as soon as the first clump of dirt was thrown on Gran's grave, he escaped to drink with his buddies. He couldn't handle it, and quite frankly, I couldn't blame him. I wanted to escape too, but I was his legal guardian now, and I couldn't escape anything anymore.

I had new financial issues to deal with, like electric bills and loans and car payments; I'd never realized how much of a burden Gran had shouldered before, and I felt even guiltier for adding to her problems with my stupid, pointless romantic anxieties. As I stared deep into Gran's grave, I tried to continue thinking practically, about selling our parents' house to keep Gran's, and how I was going to put Jason through college (...because it was pretty much out of the question for me now- I couldn't afford it and Jason needed a legal guardian).

When I was finally able to process that Gran was...gone...

...my body instinctively prepared to drop to my chair, or the ground, or whatever made contact with it first. I expected to feel the soft, humid-smelling earth beneath me, but instead I was confronted with a firm, hard, masculine body.

Thinking it was Eric, praying it was Eric, and finally thanking God that it was Eric, I allowed myself to sink into him and cry.

I succumbed to this huge loss and allowed myself to grieve. It was the heaviest few moments of my entire life as I felt, deep in my gut, every single wrong that had happened to me, beginning with my parents' deaths, and continuing with Bill's and Eric's abandonment of me, and my grandmother's death, and ultimately the indisputable knowledge that I was alone.

Incredibly, undeniably, unwillingly alone.

To his credit, he said nothing, and only held me closely. Once, I tried to say something (most likely something meaningless and nonsensical) but he calmed me and stroked my hair soothingly.

After an interminable amount of time, I forced myself to stop crying and I pushed away from him.

Still he didn't say anything. At least he knew he wasn't in a position to give an opinion.

It was never so easy to walk away.

Somehow I ended up at a dive bar downtown. If I took a cab or a bus, I honestly couldn't remember it.

The broken neon light halfheartedly flashed with the name "Willy's," and I stumbled passed the bouncer, who, with an equally halfhearted effort, tried to ask for my ID. Sliding into a dirty, ripped bar stool, I ordered a whiskey on the rocks, the "good stuff."

When I had sipped my way past drink number three, I registered a presence on my left. Supposing it to be Eric again, I turned, agitatedly, and was about to give him a piece of my mind when I realized it was Bill.

In my drunken, sloppy, sentimental state, I considered him to be the one that got away, (through no fault of his or my own). So when he leaned in to kiss me, I eagerly accepted and returned his embrace.

If I had been sober, I would have noticed that his lips and movements were dry and robotic, nothing like Eric's warm, passionate kiss and inflammatory touch. I would have noticed that Bill smelled like cigarette smoke and weed and beer, and been repulsed. But the alcohol provided an unfamiliar point of view, and I noticed none of these things.

Instead, I followed my pressing need to be close to another human being after a personal tragedy. I followed my most disgusting and base instincts. I slept with him and abused intimacy in every way that it could be abused. And in the morning, he slipped out of my room as silently as he had the year before.

Later, when I stumbled into my bathroom, I paused and looked at my reflection. My eyes were black and stained with make-up. My face was pale and drawn. My hair was greasy and dirty.

I couldn't believe the mistake I had just made. I immediately moved to the toilet, only to dry-heave several teams before breaking into intermittent sobs.

Blindly, I turned the shower on and stripped. Hot, hot steam escaped from the curtain as I stepped into the tub. The water pounded against my back and I pressed my hands against the cool tile, sobbing into the scorching water.

* * *

**Coming up**: I decided not to allow Pot-Head!Bill to stay. He's so annoying to write, even without dialogue, so I can't even imagine how dull he is to read!!! Anyway, the next few months (rest of December, January, February) will positively fly by, and we'll find out the baby's paternity in March. Another major event will happen in April (YEEEESH, not only prom, lolz :D) and then "all's well that ends well" in May.

Questions, comments, and suggestions are all super welcome. I have a good idea of how to end this, but it's definitely not set in stone!!!! Thx, as always, for any reviewer love/criticism, even tho I've been a bad girl lately.....it really makes my day :)


	15. Waiting for the End

A/N: ….just graduated and spent all summer looking for a job…have spent all of fall trying to keep said job….I'm SO sorry for taking MONTHS to update. I realize this makes me lamer than a one-legged horse, but I hope you'll read and review anyway.

THANK YOU ALL for reviewing so many months after I posted the last chapter. It definitely influenced my desire to write this most recent chapter. I hope it meet ya'll's expectations!

* * *

_Eric POV_

Despite my better judgment, I went to the funeral. I watched, from a respectable distance, as friends offered their condolences. I watched her brother leave with his friends. And I watched her, my Sookie, my darling, darling girl, as she mourned.

I knew what I was risking when I came up behind her and caught her as she collapsed. And I didn't care. There wasn't anything that could keep me from being there.

When she pushed away from me, though...that was a bit of a shock. I expected...well, I'm not entirely sure what I had expected, or thought. Except that her violent reaction was definitely not how I thought...

I wanted to chase after her, but I knew I had no right to. I had spent my entire life feeling so confident about every move I made. Even if certain things later seemed to be "mistakes," they were always someone else's mistakes. Like my marriage; that wasn't my fault, but Vivienne's. And I had convinced myself that separating from Sookie was also a mistake, but still not mine.

For the first time, after watching her pull away from my embrace, I finally acknowledged that the blame lay entirely with me. And I had no idea what to do, or how to fix it.

_Sookie POV_

Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day flew by. I didn't celebrate them; there didn't seem to be all that much to celebrate. I tried my best to juggle my schoolwork and housework, while I took on a part-time job at Sam's dad's new restaurant, _Merlotte's_. There wasn't time to stop moving, and (thankfully) even less time to sit and think. Jason led the Eagles to a district and then state championship; although he was only a junior, it seemed a certainty that he could play for whatever team he liked. He was being courted by LSU, UT, TCU, OU and many multi-lettered schools. A huge part of me gave a giant sigh of relief; he might not be intelligent in the traditional sense, but as long as he didn't behave like a total dumbass, he would be able to attend college and graduate with few financial difficulties. I knew this was what my parents, and what Gran especially, would have wanted for him. My responsibility as his guardian was just to keep him in line and make sure he didn't mess it up.

Many of my classmates, meanwhile, were settling their future plans already. Some had received their acceptance letters from universities, while others, (Amelia included) were considering engagements with their significant others.

I had neither of these options to fall back on. There was no significant other, and I had been so consumed by my grief at Gran's passing, and by an overwhelming anxiety about our finances, that I had missed the boat completely when it came to college applications. Our local community college would have to suffice, and even then, I couldn't afford to attend in the immediate future. My lack of choices left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth; I had once had such high hopes for my future. But when I thought of Gran...well, I was missing so much more than the obligatory college freshman experience.

I would work, and I would provide for Jason and myself until he was able to win a scholarship to a institution of higher learning. The irony certainly wasn't lost on me, and while I was feeling acrimonious towards fate, I could not make myself feel the same anger towards Jason. I was pathetically happy for him and Amelia, both of whom had the two things I desired the most and now could never hope to have.

Loving and dreaming were lost to me now.

_Eric POV_

_thankyougod,thankyougod,thankyou,thankyou,thankyou_, I prayed gratefully, over and over and over again.

The baby was not mine. Vivienne had given birth to a child who was NOT mine. I felt a disconnect after the baby was born, and a paternity test had quickly proven that I was not connected to her or the baby in any way.

I gave her a large amount of money, a bribe, to get the hell out of my life and stay the hell away. She took the money and ran.

And just like that, I was free.

It was mid-March.

And I was free.

My heart was practically pounding in my chest as I practiced my speech for Sookie. I was so certain that she would take me back.

Ah, the folly of (relative) youth.

_Sookie POV_

I shut the door and my legs shook, threatening to collapse on me. I _wanted_ to collapse. Eric had just been here, to my house, with the joyous new that "he was not the father."

It had been almost a miracle to see him again, and to see him wanting me. But instinctively, I nearly choked on the bitter remorse that rose in my throat…joyous news…HOW exactly was this happy? The looming possibility of fatherhood for Eric had ruined us. Although it was certainly one of the greatest challenges that could be posed for any relationship, we had surely and quickly failed that particular test. I wasn't sure if my heart was up for any more challenges.

I barely had time to close the door on Eric's shocked expression before I burst into tears. I could only imagine what he thought of me; despite everything, I still cared more about his opinion that anyone else's.

Thankfully we had an entire week off for Spring Break. Hopefully during that time I could really come to my senses, and Eric could come to his.

Every day was a struggle. To pay attention in class, to hold a conversation with friends, to go straight to work and bust my butt earning tips, to make sure Jason was staying on track, to finish my homework. Sleep? Practically nonexistent. Happiness? Also nonexistent. Anxieties? A plethora.

There were so many times that I wanted to just forget my responsibilities and high-tail it to Eric's. To sit in his arms, to pour out my worries, to revel in his presence. I thought often of the wonderful memories we had made, from our light conversations to our heavy lovemaking …But I felt like my reliance on him would be false, and a weakness. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle everything. And secretly, I wanted to prove the same thing to him.

_Eric POV_

I dedicated myself to lesson planning. After-school activities and clubs, tutorials, field trips, athletic events- you name it, I attended it. I think for a long time after Sookie rejected me, I was in shock. And I did everything I could think of that would help me ignore it.

Until the day that I couldn't ignore it any longer. What was so frightening about it was how normally it began. A beautiful April day when the sun was heating up, the flowers were blooming…and evil was festering in the heart of three students. Sophie Ann and Andre had been dating for years, and were definitely an "odd couple" in the sense that they were both…well, odd. Rumors of the occult, of random acts of violence and malevolence, were never proven or substantiated. And perhaps the two never would have wrought such havoc on Bon Temps High if they hadn't joined forces with Debbie Pelt.

* * *

_Sookie's POV_

I was in Ms. Ravenscroft's class when I heard the first screams. My fellow classmates rushed to the window, and watched as our fellow students fell in the courtyard. I couldn't exactly process what was happening; I'm sure that my emotions are what many Americans experienced on September 11th.

Shock, mainly.

And then horror, as I watched as three gunmen wearing black charge into our school, away from those poor teenagers they had left, who were bleeding and dying in the atrium of the school.

Most of my classmates fled. Ms. Ravenscroft tried to make us settle into the classroom, but flight instincts won out over fight. I also fled, but for slightly different reasons. I brushed passed the students next door to force my way into Eric's classroom. He was also slightly panicked, trying to gather them against the "safe" wall where they couldn't be seen. However, they followed the instincs of Ms. Ravenscroft's students and tried to leave. The courtyard was silent, and the gunmen could be anywhere, but in all honesty, getting out of the classrooms was probably the best bet. Otherwise, we were just sitting ducks.

And so it was that only Eric and I remained in his classroom, staring at each other for a moment too long, before I gave in. He reached his hand out towards me first, and I instinctively responded by placing my hand in his. As he gathered me against his chest, I supressed a sob. He subtly turned us so that his back was to the door, in a protective stance between myself and whoever might come through that door.

The sounds of gunshots reverberated off the school walls. They were far away, but not enough for me to feel secure.

Suddenly, siren wailed in the distance and quickly grew louder as it approached.

The echo of gunfire moved away, as Eric and I held each other carefully, silently. I hadn't prayed since Gran died, but I was now. As Eric quietly whispered over and over again how much he loved me, I prayed silently.

A long, long moment passed, during which I held my breath and continued to pray. I think Eric did the same, although he would be hard-pressed to admit it.

_Eric POV_

Before, I had wished and hoped for a situation, _any_ situation that would bring Sookie and I together again, but now I could only feel fear and remorse. _Be careful of what you wish for_ had not even begun to cover it.

I held her, protectively, thinking I was ready for anything.

We heard a POP POP POP noise from the courtyard, again, which was instantly followed by the sound of my classroom window breaking, and a few distant screams.

Sookie reacted with an odd mixture of detached concern.

"Eric, your shirt."

I looked down to see a spray of dark blood on my right shoulder. I pressed my palm against it, confused and shocked for a moment, until I realized I was unharmed.

Which meant...

Sookie crumpled to the ground.

There was a dark crimson circle of blood slowly spreading across the back of her white shirt.

* * *

SPOILERS: Is this moving too quickly? I…don't know exactly what should happen next. That must be where reviews come in? :)


	16. Shake Me Down

A/N: WOW I'm totally overwhelmed by all ya'll's support! I wasn't sure how many people were still following/invested in the story, so thank you guys so much for your reviews : ) Kudos to everyone who caught the Buffy reference, I've made a bit of a habit out of scene-stealing! I also took into account the critique that there wasn't enough S/E interaction in the last chappie, so I'm starting with a flashback. Enjoy!

SOOKIE POV

His face grinned down at me boyishly. "It's not mine," he exhaled exuberantly, and expectantly.

There was an awkward pause as my brain processed this statement.

Finally, almost imperceptibly, my body slumped against the doorframe.

An anger I had never known was welling up inside of me. I could practically taste it, rising in my throat like bile, threatening to choke me with its sudden viciousness.

I knew it was going to poison my next words, but I released them, anyway.

"And why would you think that I care, Eric?" Although I spoke carefully, evenly, the venom behind my words was unmistakable.

His face quickly fell, but he tried to recover as he pleaded with me.

"Sookie, I know what this has done to us. I know it's been a horrible, difficult time for you, and for me. But I still love you. I'm sorry that this has happened. You haven't deserved any of it. Please give me a chance to make it right."

I looked at him, really looked. His blue eyes were bright with energy and the vitality he had exuded when we were first together. Golden hair shining, tall and broad shouldered, a veritable white knight, my Prince Charming. I still felt that magnetic pull between our bodies. It would be so easy, so right, to close the gap between with a few small steps. To press myself against him, kiss those amazing lips, lose myself in his arms, and allow him to break the spell of my misery in an echo of every fairy tale I'd heard in my youth.

I had barely registered the telephone ringing in the background. But now my grandmother's voice jolted me back to reality. "You have reached the Stackhouse residence…" began the machine. I still hadn't had a chance to change the recording, or at least that's what I'd been telling myself.

And suddenly, the answer I'd been looking for had been there the whole time.

"No." I whispered.

Eric's eyes dimmed, and he frowned slightly. But his face showed no recognition of what I was saying.

I cleared my throat and tried again, more firmly this time. My voice was steeled but not totally without emotion.

"No, Eric. Too much time has passed. There's nothing you could ever do to erase the past few months, or to make up for them. And now, I think it's time for you to leave."

Converting that anger into physical strength, I quickly and decisively closed the door on him. Despite my self-control, I instinctively sought a final glimpse of his expression. Shock, and something else very dark and very ugly marred his beautiful features. At the time, I couldn't identify it.

But now, lying on the cold linoleum of Eric's classroom, I knew it was defeat.

Because my face was wearing a similar expression.

* * *

ERIC POV

I was on my knees the instant after she fell. I rolled her over gently, and saw that there was an exit wound through her left shoulder. Later I would realize that the trajectory of the bullet was at an awkward angle, so that it had passed through Sookie, glanced the sleeve of my shirt, and embedded itself in one of the classroom walls.

But in this moment, all I could focus on was Sookie's wound. _God, so much blood_, _everywhere, oh God, no, please, no,_ I thought frantically. And then, oddly, I wondered, _what did they do in the movies?_ Oh yes, pressure. I hurriedly ripped off my tie and wrapped it tightly and awkwardly around her shoulder. After about a minute, Sookie's beautiful eyes fluttered open.

"Eric?" she asked weakly.

"I'm here, Sookie, love, I'm here," I replied, while my mind was racing furiously. "Hold on, hold on," I begged. I realized I needed to draw attention to my room, to get her help, or else carry her downstairs.

The gunfire had ceased, the sirens were louder, but my instinct to stick my head out of the window and scream for help was quickly dismissed by my otherwise irrational brain.

Fortunately Pam had heard the commotion, and I saw her rush into my room and stand against the opposite wall, holding her cell phone.

She looked at Sookie with horror and murmured, "Oh God," before being interrupted by whoever was on the phone.

"Yes, Room C211. A student has been shot, please send someone!" she urged firmly.

Her eyes were worried and she covered the mouthpiece of her phone. "Eric, they've managed to subdue the gunmen but they can't be sure they've found all of them. And they can't send anyone inside the school until they're certain…it's your call- do you want to wait here or find help?"

I looked down at Sookie, whose face was growing more and more pale every moment.

"Pam, you should stay here, just in case it's not safe in the hallways. But I'm going to carry Sookie outside. She need help right **now**," I tried to keep the anguish out of my voice, but the intensity was something I couldn't help.

Pam nodded and, after abruptly ending the phone call, explained to me that she needed to return to her classroom for the students who were remaining. "Be careful, Eric."

I implied that she should do the same, and quickly moved to lift Sookie.

"This is going to hurt, darling," I whispered softly into her ear. "But you've been so brave, you just have to keep doing it a little longer. I'm so proud of you, Susannah. You're so strong, so beautiful, honey…" I continued the trail of sweet nothings and praise as I raised her off of the ground as swiftly as possible.

She whimpered quietly. I accidentally looked into her eyes and it was almost my undoing.

The bluish-green orbs were frozen in fear and pain. Her breathing was labored as she tried to speak. Her voice faltered as she whispered,

"Eric…I'm going…to die…"

I clenched my jaw and shook my head furiously as I tried to ignore her face, which was growing pale at a rapidly alarming rate. "No, no, no. Hold on, just a little longer. You're going to be fine."

As I started to walk, as briskly as I could without jostling her, she rested her head limply against my shoulder and softly issued a few more words.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry...Eric, please…please forgive me…"

Hot tears were filling my eyes, threatening to flood over my cheeks. I had to stay alert and focus on the hallways, just in case, but I wanted time to stop, and just look at her, so that I could make everything right.

My chest rumbled as I answered.

"Sookie, you're an angel. There's nothing to forgive. I am the one in the wrong. And you will be fine. You have to be okay, because I have to make everything up to you. God, I love you. You have to be okay."

* * *

SOOKIE POV

I'm not sure when I passed out. The last thing I remembered was feeling Eric carrying me…and then nothing.

I woke up in a cold, sterile, white-washed room. I couldn't speak, there were tubes crowding my throat and my arms and my everywhere, it seemed. I thought I saw Jason, and Amelia, but I wasn't sure. I wanted to say, "Eric." Over and over again, I wanted to call for him.

But I couldn't; besides the tubes, I simply lacked the strength.

I didn't remember seeing him as I was reluctantly lulled back into a deep rest.

* * *

ERIC POV

I was able to keep up the façade of a teacher simply being concerned for his student. Even in the ambulance, I was the model of a concerned citizen.

But when we got to the hospital, and they refused to admit anyone except family beyond a certain point, I was so bitterly tempted to scream the truth. That we had been intimate, as close as any husband and wife, and GODDAMIT THEY'D BETTER LET ME BACK THERE.

But right then Jason arrived, and they refused to allow him through because Sookie had gone straight to surgery.

I prayed furiously.

* * *

SOOKIE POV

Fortunately, the national and local media attention was focused on the three gunmen and their motives, upbringings, weapons, etc. Sophie Ann and Andre had committed suicide in the school's courtyard, (almost romantic if you considered that they died in each other's arms and subsequently ignored the five innocent victims they had slain). On the other hand, Debbie Pelt had been taken down by snipers while attempting to flee the scene. Few mourned for them, but somehow media outlets like the TODAY show made them all out to be victims, just the same.

My wound was a clean one; the bullet had exited smoothly, and once it was irrigated and stitched up, it simply needed time to rest and heal.

Eric was by my side for the entire ordeal. He ignored the various suggestions of my friends and family that he should go home in order to sleep and refresh himself, replying simply that he felt responsible for my wellbeing, since he had been the one to carry me from the school.

Amazingly, everyone was so distracted by the audacity of Sophie Ann and her two accomplices that no one bothered to question his intentions.

After about a week, I was released and allowed to go home. Amelia visited occasionally, and Jason promised to be a faithful caregiver, but ultimately his immaturity conquered his hasty assurances and he fidgeted around the living room for a few hours before heading out to a friend's house.

I was lying on the couch, mindlessly watching a re-run of Buffy, when I heard a decisive knock at the door.

* * *

ERIC POV

I grinned ecstatically wide, almost goofily, as Sookie walked across the stage in her cap and gown to receive her diploma.

She smiled gorgeously at the crowd before her gaze lingered on me for an extra moment. Her eyes brightened as she mouthed to me, "Love you."

I had handed in my resignation a week earlier, and was headed to a simple TA position at LSU while I entered their graduate school to work on my masters in History. Sookie would also be attending as an undergrad student, double-majoring in History and English. I had sold my candy-apple red corvette to help her finance her education. Although we had agreed it was a loan, privately I saw it as a gift to my future wife.

After that horrible day in April, there was never a doubt in my mind that we should be together. Despite her broken confession about what had happened with Bill after her grandmother's funeral, I still felt that I was undeserving of her love, and not the other way around. If she could forgive, I certainly could, too.

I unconsciously held my breath as I saw her walking towards me after the ceremony. The wind was gently caressing her curled blond locks, her eyes twinkled, she seemed to glow. I smiled broadly, happy, as I walked to meet her.

~THE END~

~FO' REALZ~


End file.
